


V-Day

by missdibley



Series: A Girl For All Seasons [1]
Category: Actor RPF, Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, Chris Hemsworth - Fandom, Michael Fassbender - Fandom, RPF - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, RPF, Smut, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 00:31:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3508400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You don't know me. And I don't know you at all except that you are a famous actor who apparently can stop time, or at least slow it down, to tell me that the spirits of Valentine's Day have decided to show me the meaning of the holiday or love or something and what's even stranger than all of this is that I am, somehow, completely willing to accept that this is all somehow not weird and frightening and totally feasible and true and totally going to happen."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost in the Supermarket

**Author's Note:**

> In case this doesn't soon become obvious, this is my first fic.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You don't know me. And I don't know you at all except that you are a famous actor who apparently can stop time, or at least slow it down, to tell me that the spirits of Valentine's Day have decided to show me the meaning of the holiday or love or something and what's even stranger than all of this is that I am, somehow, completely willing to accept that this is all somehow not weird and frightening and totally feasible and true and totally going to happen."

The plan was simple: bed, burger, bourbon.  _Bright Star_  playing on my Apple TV, and my laptop for when I wanted to stop the movie, which is so lush and romantic but also a total bummer, and gorge on smutty fan fiction until three in the morning. Basically, the best Valentine's Eve a spinster like me could ever hope to have.

It didn't used to be this way. I used to spend every Valentine's Day wearing every red piece of clothing I owned, gorging on chocolates and inviting my fellow single ladies out for a night of fruity drinks and drunken singing at my favorite Korean karaoke joint in Albany Park. But while I remained single, my friends didn't. They found boyfriend, boyfriends became husbands, they'd upgrade to proper houses in Oak Park or Evanston from shitty Edgewater apartments with crooked floors, and instead of V-Day drinks and bags of Jay's potato chips we'd be lucky to catch up with Starbucks over Presidents' Day weekend.

I missed my friends. I missed that life.

And now here I was, alone, in the scrum that is the Lincoln Park Trader Joe's on a Friday night, the night before Valentine's Day. Friday the 13th.

A tiny blonde thing in Lululemon running tights and a North Face puffy coat, massive diamond engagement ring weighing down her left hand, pushed past me to get to the salad-in-a-bag section of the market. I shook my head as a doughy guy with a kind face trailed behind, holding a shopping basket filled with strawberries, asparagus, and two salmon filets. The store was simply lousy with small, determined looking women being followed around by husbands and boyfriends, shopping for their holiday dinners.

I wasn't even sure why I was here. A burger from Five Guys (bacon, two patties, mushrooms and A-1 sauce), tucked into a nest of fries, sat in a brown paper bag at the bottom of my messenger bag. A fresh bottle of Bulleit was sitting at home on my nightstand. I'd already downloaded the movie from the iTunes store.

But I love flowers. Any kind of flowers, and there were always flowers at TJ's. Bouquets of roses in red, pink, yellow, and lavender. Mixed blossoms in heart-printed cellophane. Nothing cost more than $9.99 a bundle, so they'd be lucky to last the long weekend. I just needed something for tonight. Something pretty that I'd feel okay about trashing tomorrow before crying in the shower.

I took a mitten off so I could I run my hand over some lush red roses, feeling their soft petals with my fingertips. But aren't red roses for lovers? Aren't they an awful cliche? "Terrible," I muttered, stepping to my right to grab yellow roses for my basket.

"Are you sure those are the ones you want, darling?" A friendly voice, an accent I couldn't place, sounded behind me.

"Well, yeah, why wouldn't I?" I turned around to find a big, friendly looking man smiling at me. Blond hair shoved under a black knit cap, blue eyes twinkling in the harsh fluorescent light. His lips curled into a smile, and for a second I felt something like a warm ball of butter melting in my stomach. Like everybody in the store, he wore a down jacket. But unlike everybody else he was so muscle-bound he appeared as though he might bust out of it. Hot, for sure, but definitely not my type. I smiled back.

"You should get the red ones. They're beautiful, and so much nicer than the yellow ones." He reached around me, getting close enough so I could smell him (musky but in a "I've been running through your dreams all day, girl" way so it was good), and grabbed the red roses I'd admired before. He dropped them into my basket, and returned the yellow bouquet to the display.

"Can't say I'm really a fan." I shrugged.

"Of red roses?"

"Of Valentine's Day." 

"Oh, is that what today is?" He chuckled and rubbed his chin. "I travel a bit so I lose a day here and there."

That accent. The eyes. The square jaw. Where have I seen this man before?

"Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"Go for it."

"Are you Chris Hemsworth?"

The stranger smiled.

"Well, yes." He stuck his hand out and I shook it. Or rather, I let him crush my hand with his mighty paw while I tried not to whimper in pain. "Nice to meet you...?"

"Esme." I withdrew my hand and flexed my fingers, trying to get some of the feeling back. "Esme Grey. Chicago resident. Trader Joe's shopper. Valentine's Day cynic."

Chris laughed. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Esme. It's a beautiful name."

"I'll tell my parents you said so."

"Please do."

I looked around the store. Nobody seemed to notice or care that Thor himself was standing in the middle of Trader Joe's talking to me. Why weren't we surrounded by a crowd of teenage girls begging for pictures and autographs? People seemed super focused on their shopping. Maybe a little too focused. I realized that while I could see people moving around us, they moved in slow motion, and in total silence. It was like I was in a bubble that contained just me and Chris and this display of flowers.

"Am I on glue or is everything in slow motion now?"

"If you are on glue, that's no concern of mine. Whatever floats your boat." Chris shrugged, then laughed when I rolled my eyes. "But..." Chris sighed. "It's not that everybody else is slowing down, we're just having this conversation a little faster than normal."

"How much faster?"

"In the time since we met, only 1.5 seconds have elapsed."

"What?"

"And by the time we're done here, only five seconds will have elapsed."

"What?"

"Then I'll be gone, and you'll have a story that absolutely nobody will believe."

"WHAT."

Chris roared with laughter.

"That seems to be your favorite word."

"I'm sorry, I just don't understand. What are you even doing in Chicago, let alone standing in Trader Joe's talking to me?"

Chris put down his basket, then took my hands in his. In case you were wondering, Chris's hands are very warm. Nails filed down but not too neat. A little rough. His wedding ring felt heavy and cool on the back of my hand.

"Esme, have you ever read 'A Christmas Carol?'"

I consider for a second.

"Does watching  _The Muppet Christmas Carol_ count?"

"Of course." Chris said solemnly. I nodded.

"Then yes, I have absolutely read 'A Christmas Carol.'"

"The reason why I'm here is something like that. It is four o' clock now. At the stroke of midnight tonight, you will be visited by the first of three..." Chris paused, his eyebrows knit while he looked for the right word. "... angels who will show you the true meaning and spirit of Valentine's Day."

I burst out laughing.

"Are you fucking serious?" I wiped my eyes, not caring that my eyeliner was probably running down my face. I started hiccuping, I was laughing so much. I set my basket on the floor, then rooted around in my bag for a tissue to dry my tears. Chris took my hands in his again. He fixed his eyes upon me.

"As a fucking heart attack, Esme." I groaned, and he continued his spiel. "Three angels, the first of whom will arrive at midnight. He..."

"He?" I perked up. "Do I know him? Is he cute? Is this gonna be a date?"

"You know  _of_ him." I frowned in confusion. "You know him the same way you know me."

"Which is to say not at all." He shook his head. "He's famous?" Chris arched an eyebrow at me. "Like famous famous, not like Chicago famous like Eagle Man or Ronnie Woo Woo?"

"What?"

"Never mind!" I bit my bottom lip, then looked back up at Chris. Gosh, he was cute. "Arrives at midnight. Show me the meaning of the holiday." I muttered, more to myself than to him. "But why? Why me?"

Chris grinned at me. "Why not you?" I could feel myself getting all huffy.

"You don't know me. And I don't know you at all except that you are a famous actor who apparently can stop time, or at least slow it down, to tell me that the spirits of Valentine's Day have decided to show me the meaning of the holiday or love or something and what's even stranger than all of this is that I am, somehow, completely willing to accept that this is all somehow not weird and frightening and totally feasible and true and totally going to happen." I took a deep breath.

"How many times did you say 'totally'"? Chris asked. I punched his arm.

I noticed some of my spittle on Chris's chest. Great, not only did I get all ranty but I'd sprayed his coat, too. I tried to wipe it off when he grabbed my hand, pressing it to his heart. A nice, steady beat. I took a deep breath but before I could continue he shook his head.

"Esme, I know I can't ask you to trust me. I'm a stranger to you now, but believe me when I say that I am also your friend." He paused, and squeezed my hand gently. "Know that I, or we, are trying to help you. We're fans of love, and we know you are, too. You just need a little help remembering that." I looked down at my feet.

"That was a nice speech."

"I mean it."

"I know."

I could feel my eyes start to water again. Chris wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his chest. I was wearing a coat, mitten still on one hand and a wool hat was pulled over my head but I still felt cold and alone. I wanted to burrow under Chris's coat, inhale these roses, and hibernate until spring. We stood there for a second, then I straightened up a bit and stood back and out of Chris's embrace.

"So what do I do now?"

"Now? We're gonna get out of here." Chris bent down to pick the red roses out of my basket and placed them in my hand. He steered me through the crowds, still moving oh so slowly, towards a checkout lane. He pulled a $20 bill out of a money clip ("For the roses," he nodded at me.) and left it next to the register.  We exited the store, walking outside and east down the street towards my bus stop.

Outside life was moving at its normal speed. The sun was setting and ahead of me I could see that the sky over Lake Michigan was already dark. Chris walked behind me, steering me with a hand he had pressed against my lower back.

"Are you getting on the bus with me?" I tried to picture him standing tall among the commuters on the Broadway bus. He shook his head no.

"No, but I'll wait with you until it arrives." Chris grinned.

"Thanks." I considered something in my head. "So I just bide my time until midnight and then what? Is there any place I need to be? Do they know where I live? Do you need my address?"

"Do whatever it is you normally do on a Friday night. Watch a movie, eat dinner, read some sexy fiction on the internet." I felt the blood drain from my face but then return in a red hot blush. "So cute when you do that."

"Thanks." I glowered at him, then pulled my hood up over my head.

"Go home or don't go home, it doesn't matter. He'll find you."

"You're still not telling me who it is, are you?"

"Nope."

"Bastard." I only half mean it. Chris chuckles.

"So whoever will just show up and magically show me the meaning of Valentine's Day through a carefully edited look back at my sad sad life?"

"It's meant to be fun."

"And if it isn't?"

"It will be."

"How do you know?"

"Let's just say I know from experience." And then it dawned on me.

"This happened to you, too." I whispered. Chris nodded.

"Three angels came to you to show you the meaning of Valentine's Day." He nodded again. "And it worked?"

"I'll say," Chris whispered. He reached into his pocket for his phone, tapping and swiping before handing it to me. "Look."

I looked down at a picture of three children, a toddler on a couch sitting between two sleeping infants in car seats. The toddler smiled bashfully at the camera.

"Aw, gee..." I muttered. I handed the phone back to him. "Chris, they're beautiful."

Chris looked at the display before tucking it gently back into his pocket.

"They are."

"Your wife must be beautiful."

"She is."

"What are you going to do tonight?"

"I'm going to get her on Skype, ask her to show me the children in their beds, then we'll talk until one of us falls asleep."

"I bet you miss her."

"You have no idea," Chris sighed.

The bus arrived, lurching next to the curb. Passengers were slow to get off so I had time to find my bus pass before getting in line to board. I looked up at Chris.

"I feel like I should ask you something else before I go but I don't know what else to say."

"Keep your phone with you." Chris pointed at the iPhone in my hand. "If you have any questions, just ask the assistant."

"Siri will know what to do?"

"Doesn't Siri know everything?"

"I think Siri likes to think so." Chris laughed.

"Anything else?" Chris asked.

"Yeah. This." I wrapped my arms around his waist, as I was too short to reach around his neck, and nuzzled his chest. "Thank you."

Chris kissed the top of my head, then my forehead, then both cheeks. I released him from my grasp, then moved towards the bus.

"Esme! One more thing!" I turned around to see Chris walking backwards, away from me. He blew me a kiss.

"Happy Valentine's Day!"


	2. The LCB

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I still had no clue who was coming for me at twelve, as Siri couldn't give me a satisfactory answer to questions such as "Who the fuck is coming for me at midnight?" and "Is Chris Hemsworth a fucking wizard?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes? Feedback? Possible revisions? Comments, please! And thanks in advance for reading.

When I got home, I shut the front door behind me and leaned against it, taking a breath. I found a pitcher for the roses, filling it with water and arranging the flowers in it. I set the pitcher on my tiny kitchen counter, then moved it to my coffee table. I stared at the flowers while I shrugged off my coat and kicked off my boots. I made my way to the bathroom for a quick pee, regarding myself in the mirror while I washed my hands.

My black hair fell in fine, frizzy waves around my head. I had a spot on my chin, and the sallow overhead light brought out the bags under my eyes. My eyes were a brown so dark they were practically black. No lashes to speak of. I stood up straight, sticking my chest out, then slumped back. Sighing, I pulled off my clothes, and started the shower. While I waited for the water to get hot, I looked down at my soft belly, sucking it in so I could see my toes. I squeezed the fat on my hips, then ran my hands up my torso to rest on my breasts. I grimaced at the reflection.

"Note to self," I said as I stepped into the tub, "Get a goddamn pedicure. And maybe a full body transplant."

* * *

By 6:00, I was freshly showered and dressed in an old t-shirt and new underpants. Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I had a dish towel tied loosely around my neck, a makeshift bib for eating the Five Guys burger that I needed two hands to hold. I chewed each bite slowly, taking an occasional sip of water from a pint glass on my nightstand. A tumbler of bourbon, my dessert, sat next to my water.

On my television,  _Bright Star_ played quietly. I swallowed some burger while Fanny Brawne and John Keats enjoyed their first kiss, lying next to each other in the shade on a warm day. I whimpered, though I don't know if it was because the burger was so delicious or because I was overwhelmed by that kiss.

It was the kiss. I tried to remember I had been properly kissed. I gasped in horror when I realized it had been during the Clinton administration.

"At least," I thought, reaching for the bourbon, "it was during his second term."

By the time the movie was over, I still had four hours to kill before my first date began. I've never been a good napper but I knew I needed to get rest if I was expected to entertain three outings with three mystery angels in a single evening. Crouching in bed over a burger and fries, watching a movie in the dark had also left my neck tight and my back a little achey. I looked at my laptop. A browser window showed several tabs, each tab displaying a chapter in a fan fiction story I'd been meaning to read. I giggled.

"I really shouldn't." I pulled my laptop closer. I lay down on my back, then propped the laptop on my chest. I let my legs fall open a little, and pulled the hem of my shirt above the line of my boyshorts. I trailed the tip of my index finger across my stomach, just under my navel. I tabbed to a story and began to read.

> _Oakley had caught me, pinned me down on the lawn, and was straddling my left thigh. He bit his lip to keep from laughing as I sighed in resignation underneath him, wiggling my hips as though I wanted to escape._
> 
> _But I didn't want to escape. And he knew it._
> 
> _There was no moon out, but his face was so close to mine that I could see his lashes fluttering against his cheek. He released one of my wrists, taking his free hand to stroke my cheek._
> 
> _"Tag." Oakley breathed. "You're it."_
> 
> _I used my free hand to run my fingers through his curls. I ran the tip of my index finger down the edge of his ear, the flat of my hand down his jaw and towards his chin. He turned his face slightly, pressing his lips into the center of my palm._
> 
> _"Oakley." I whispered. I removed my hand from his face, and rested it on the nape of his neck, where the hair was not as curly but no less soft._
> 
> _And then he kissed me. The smell of a cigarette replaced by the flavor of it, of him, in my mouth. His tongue didn't wait for permission to play with mine, pushing past my lips to engage it slowly but surely._
> 
> _I only became aware of how soaked my panties were when Oakley pushed my legs apart at the knee, the cool night air rushing to touch me where Oakley was not. The erection that had been pressed against my thigh moved towards my center, begging for release from his cargo shorts._
> 
> _I pushed Oakley up off me. He knelt in the grass while I sat up in front of him. I reached out and touched his bare chest, slowly drawing my thumb over a nipple. He groaned, then whimpered when I leaned forward to suck it into my mouth. Swirling my tongue around the nipple, I teased it with my teeth. I looked up at Oakley but I could barely see him in the night._
> 
> _My hands fumbled at his waist, unzipping and pulling down his shorts. His cock popped up and out into my hand. I could feel a bead of pre-cum when I ran my thumb over the tip. Oakley breathed in. Somewhere the wind blew through the trees. Oakley and the leaves were the only things I could hear._
> 
> _"Please." One word, a whisper._
> 
> _"Please." The same word again._
> 
> _I leaned back, wiggling in the grass as I pulled my dress up over my head. I reached out in front of me and found Oakley's arms with my hands. I pulled him down so that he lay atop me once again. My bare breasts pressed into his chest. I kissed the base of his neck, licking then sucking the spot where it met his shoulder. He seemed to like that._
> 
> _I took Oakley's hands and pressed them to my hips, hooking his thumbs through my panties so he could pull them off. I felt him move against me, grinding his pelvis between my legs as he succeeded in both removing my panties and kicking off his own shorts. I groaned when his cock rubbed against my wet slit, whimpering with want._
> 
> _Oakley dragged the tip of his dick against my clit._
> 
> _"Oakley." I hissed._
> 
> _"Now."_

That was enough. I squeezed my eyes shut as I pushed my laptop off my belly and slid my hand down into my lap. My cunt was drenched, clit aching and swollen. I tapped it, then circled the bud a few times with my fingertip and that was it. My orgasm shuddered through me, arching my back and bending my legs at the knee. I squeezed my eyes closed, giggling softly. Turning to lie on my right side, I clenched my hand between thighs, as I could feel heat surging through my lower back. The ache was gone.

Smiling to myself, I opened my eyes when I heard my phone buzzing on the pillow next to head. The number wasn't a proper phone number, but the day's date, followed by a red heart emoji.

_That was nice, darling. Save a little something for me. See you soon. T._

I squeaked and dropped the phone.

* * *

At 11:30 I had a last minute freakout about my outfit. I'd changed into a black wool turtleneck sweater and dark skinny jeans over long underwear and my beigest bra and panties. A practical choice considering how cold it was that night, but who knew where the evening would take me. I still had no clue who was coming for me at twelve, as Siri couldn't give me a satisfactory answer to questions such as "Who the fuck is coming for me at midnight?" and "Is Chris Hemsworth a fucking wizard?"

I found the red silk slip I'd once drunk ordered from France, slipping it over a black lace demi bra a friend made me buy because, as she said, "it makes your tits look AH-MAH-ZING." I didn't have matching panties but black hipster briefs seemed to work. Black cotton thigh highs held up with maroon garters from Sock Dreams. Over all this a black sweater dress that nipped in at the waist.

I'd already done my makeup, defining my brows and daubing my lips with wine lip gloss after I'd, um, masturbated earlier, so all I had to do was put on my profoundly unsexy puffy coat, grab my phone, and get my purse. Locking up my apartment, I skipped down the stairs to the lobby of my building where I ran straight into Tom Hiddleston.

Thomas William Hiddleston. Standing in my lobby in a long black coat, which hung open to reveal a fitted white shirt, black waistcoat, and fitted trousers. He held a pair of blond leather driving gloves in his hand, the hue matching his curls and scruff. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, merry to match the sparkle in his bright blue eyes.

Oh.

My.

Loki.

"Esme!" He smiled at me, then wrapped his arms around me. Somehow, his touch didn't actually make me explode into a million little pieces like I always thought it might. Could he be human after all?

"Yes. Yes. I am Esme. Esme is me." I slowed myself lest I began babbling. "Let me guess. You're here to show me the meaning of Valentine's Day?"

"That is correct, darling. Our mutual friend Mr. Hemsworth sends his regards." He kissed my hand because of course he did.

"Nice touch." I couldn't help rolling my eyes. Who even kisses hands anymore?

Tom nipped the tip of my finger.

"Ow!"

Tom smiled, then sucked gently on my fingertip to take away the sting. Jesus...

"That was for the eye roll." Taking my hand in his, Tom led me outside into the cold where a tomato red Camaro idled at the curb. After settling me into the passenger seat, he got behind the wheel, looked at me and winked as he pulled on his gloves.

"What, no Jaguar?"

"I thought as we are in America that nothing but an American car would do for my American girl." He revved the engine and off we were, driving towards southbound Lake Shore Drive.

"Do you know where we're going?"

Tom nodded at me. "Of course I do."

"Care to tell me where that would be?" I peered out the window as the car took the curve around The Drake Hotel, then again when Navy Pier came into view. I always loved looking at the Ferris wheel on the pier at night.

"I do not." Tom chuckled, then patted my hand. "Our destination will become obvious soon enough."

"That's a relief. I suppose."

"The question you should be asking me is  _when_ are we going?"

"Is this a Doctor Who thing? Because I kinda lost interest after the Ponds left and..." Tom interrupted me.

"Do you remember what Chris told you, about how this would be like 'A Christmas Carol'"?

I nodded.

"Well, then, like our hero Scrooge, we'll be traveling into the past. Your past, in particular."

I fiddled with the hem of my coat. "But there really isn't much to look at, I mean, if we're looking at my romantic history."

"True. But it's still worth considering."

"Sure if you're into total failure!"

"Darling, you can only fail if you actually try."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" I was totally incredulous.

"For someone as funny as you are, as witty are you are..." Tom paused to touch my lips. "As lovely as you are, don't you think it's a bit strange how little you've been kissed, been romanced?"

"Been fucked?" I spat as I finished his sentiment for him. "Isn't that what you're getting at? How would you even know? You don't even know me." I was getting hot. I didn't want to be but I didn't like where this conversation was going.

Tom steered the car towards the 53rd Street exit, exiting the drive and pulling over on the corner of 53rd and Hyde Park Boulevard. I'd gone to college in this neighborhood, graduating in the late 1990's. A block away I could see the lights of Ciral's House of Tiki winking at me. But how could that be when the Tiki closed fifteen years ago?

"Esme." Tom's was gentle, almost soothing. "I'm sorry to put you on the defensive. It was never my intention to make you upset. Do you believe me?"

I nodded, not bothering to wipe the single tear that slid down my cheek. Tom wiped it away with his finger.

"Siri was kind enough to fill me in on some of the details of your personal experiences, with an emphasis on your years here as a student." He looked me in the eyes, making sure I was following before he continued. "I thought we could visit a night from your past so you might consider its impact on your present."

"That sounds good." I didn't sound totally convincing, not even to myself. I smiled at Tom.

"Let me try again." Tom concentrated on my face. "You're so lovely but I imagine you've not been feeling that way recently."

I nodded yes.

"I thought it might be worth visiting the past to get another look at you and your life. The years have been kind to you. Don't you think you should be kinder to yourself?"

I nodded again.

"It isn't a bad experience, is it?" I whispered.

"No, Petal." He brushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

"Petal. I like that."

"I thought you might." Tom leaned in and brushed my lips with his. His lips were soft. He tasted like cream.

"So do we need to leave the car to have this experience? Can't we just sit here and make out a little instead?" I whined.

Tom laughed. "As much as I would like to stay here and snog in this warm car on this frightfully cold night, we're expected at a very important party."

"Which party? Whose?"

Tom leaned over me to open the glove compartment, withdrawing a brightly colored flyer. It read:

THE BROTHERS OF AEPI INVITE YOU TO THE LASCIVIOUS COSTUME BALL

* * *

The Lascivious Costume Ball, or the LCB, was a serious tradition at the University of Chicago, where the less you wore, the less you paid to get in. Full nudity meant admission was free. Even at a school that wasn't exactly known for the physical attractiveness of its student body this was still a sexy prospect.

Alas, the tradition went away in the early 80's, but was revived for exactly one year when I was in school by the Jewish fraternity AEPi. Like most frats at the U of C, the brothers didn't have a big house but rather a large six bedroom apartment mere blocks from the lake. A cavernous place full of dim corners for boozy hormonal hookups was ideal for a raucous sexy party.

Tom found rock star parking two doors down, and we sat for a minute, watching a steady stream of students in various states of undress scurry into the building.

"What are we waiting for?" I moved to unlock my door but Tom reached over me and locked it again.

"We have to go over a few things. First, put this on." He handed me a lacy black mask that covered the top half of my face. Looking in the mirror, I resembled a sexy burglar. "I'm going to do my best to ensure we don't encounter 1998 you but lest we do, the mask should help conceal your identity so she, um, you does not panic."

I nodded. Tom pulled a leather mask and put it on, resting it on his forehead. It pushed his curls back from his head. He looked so cute I wanted to lick him.

"If you do happen to meet yourself, get away as soon as possible."

"What's the idea here?"

"We're going to observe you attending this party. We want to make sure everything happens the same way so the future isn't changed. The less we interact with you, the better."

"But why wouldn't I want to tell me..." I stopped.

"Tell yourself what?"

"I'm not sure."

"Let's just watch you. See how you conduct yourself, how you move." Tom touched my mask, then ran his thumb down my cheek. "I want you to observe your interactions with others but, more importantly, what you do when you are not self-conscious."

"And you thought I wasn't feeling self-conscious at the LCB? We were all in our underwear! There was a girl who painted her torso with liquid latex instead of wearing a shirt!"

Tom laughed. "It's going to be a great night."

I turned to look out the window and up at an apartment the windows of which flashed red then blue then red again. The windows were fogged up. I wondered at the heat in the place. I shrugged.

"Fuck it. Let's go."

Tom pulled his mask over his eyes and stuck his tongue out at me. Being so close to the party, we left our coats in the car so we wouldn't be charged for wearing them.

A chubby boy with dark hair and lipstick prints all over his chest and abdomen greeted us at the front door. He took in our appearance and smiled mischievously. "You guys sure you need to be wearing that much?"

I nodded yes while Tom shook his head no. That jerk.

"How much if she loses the dress and I get rid of my shirt and waistcoat?" Tom reached around my waist to reassure me.

"I'm wearing a slip under the dress." I tugged the hem of my dress up, flashing the boys some red. Tom hooted.

"I was going to charge you the same but considering the thigh highs  _and_ the mask, let's say $2 for you, and $3 for the gentleman." Tom protested. "Dude, you didn't say anything about taking off your pants."

"I'm actually not wearing any." Tom smirked. The boy scratched his head in confusion.

"Uh, yeah, you are."

"My good man, these are trousers. Those," Tom pointed at the boy's plaid boxers, "Are pants."

"OH." The boy smiled. "GOT IT." He stuck his hand out for the $5 bill Tom pressed into his sweaty hand.

I pulled my dress over my head, then rolled it into a bundle along with Tom's things. Tom hid them behind a plant then turned to look at me as the boy stamped our hands for entry. Tom smiled at me.

"What?" I asked.

"You look really nice." Tom ran his eyes over my body.

I could feel myself blushing. I just hoped I wasn't as red as my slip.

"Thanks. So do you."

"The stockings are a nice touch." Tom reached down and stuck his finger under one of my garters, then snapped it against my thigh. I shuddered.

"I thought so, too." I held my hand out for him to take, then followed him up the stairs.

The apartment was dark and hot, crowded and loud. Nobody was completely naked, that I could see, though a few brave souls came awfully close. The house lights were out everywhere, with strings of Christmas lights providing the only illumination as we navigated the party. After grabbing Solo cups full of Old Style from the kitchen, we squeezed into the living room where the music was loudest.

The room was empty of furniture, filled only with kids who moved frantically to the techno pumping out of two speaker towers that flanked an empty fireplace on the far wall. A strobe light flashed so for a moment it looked like a real dance club and not a house party full of nerds on the South Side.

I chugged my beer, crushing the empty cup under my foot. Tom danced behind me, running his hands up and down my torso. I ground my ass into him, thrilling at the hardness of his erection against the small of my back.

"Do you see me? Where am I?" I hopped up a few times, looking for my 22 year old self in the crowd of revelers. I stilled when Tom pressed one hand against my stomach, and slid the other against the underside of my chin.

"There." His voice was ragged. "There you go."

I looked in the direction where he'd pointed my chin. 22 year old me still wore glasses but had the same long hair. There I stood on top of a radiator cover, next to a girl from my dorm who I now remembered as having dragged me out that night. I wore a longline black bra that looked like a Merry Widow. A Marlboro Light was practically part of my right hand, punctuating the air to the beat, while my left hand pulled on the split skirt I wore, tugging until the slit began at my hip. Even from across the room, I could see the total absence of care on my face. The only thing there was love. Love of the night, love of the music, love of my self.

When younger me started shimmying faster and running her hands over her breasts, Tom pulled me backwards into the corner. If I could hear him over the music and the sound of my heart in my chest and my own breathing, I would have heard him grunting as he slid his hand into my panties. The second his thumb brushed my clit I nearly passed out.

"Not..." I rasped, "Not here. They're all going to see."

Tom groaned. "Nobody cares, Esme. They're all doing it, too."

It was true. People danced in twos and threes, faces pressed into necks, eyes closed. Boys and girls all seemed to have lost their hands in each other's crotches. I guess in this party of the horny, the man with at least one free hand was king.

"Besides, I want to look at you," Tom nodded at the other me, still dancing and smoking, "while I pleasure you." He licked the back of my ear and I swear to god I actually meowed.

Taking that as his cue to continue, Tom slid his middle finger into my cunt, which leaked down my thighs. His hand was large enough that he could rub my clit with his palm. His other hand found its way to my breasts, taking turns teasing my nipples to stiff peaks. He curled his middle finger inside of me, finding and rubbing my G-spot with a quickness I would have found surprising had I not been wracked with spasms of ecstasy.

I hardly knew who I was but I knew where I was, hot and completely jacked up underneath the hottest man I'd ever let touch me this intimately. I was getting so close to coming, between the finger in my pussy and the palm on my clit and the magic he was working on my breasts. I turned around, taking him by surprise as I pushed him into a chair. I pointed at his cock, which was bursting out his trousers.

"Is this seat taken?"

Tom laughed while my eyes lit upon a bowl of condoms on the mantel. I took one and tucked the unopened packet in my mouth, unzipping his pants (sorry, trousers) and taking his dick in my hands. The sheer size and beauty of it brought me to my knees. I would have been happy to stay there, lavishing it with praise using my mouth and hands, but I was far too impatient. I needed him inside me.

I took the condom packet from my mouth and ripped it open. I wasn't quite skilled enough to roll it on with my lips, but I did lick the tip of his dick before I put the condom on completely. Tom threw his head back, exposing his lovely throat to me. I got up and licked it, tracing a trail up to his jaw. I kissed his sweet mouth, looking in his eyes which were nearly as dark as mine.

I turned around and, straddling his lap, I pulled my panties to the side so I could brush the tip of his dick against my clit. He sat up, grabbing a hip and squeezing it as I lowered myself onto his cock. He was so big and it had been so long since I'd had anyone.

"So tight." Tom whispered. "So wet. So _good._ "

We sighed together, and then I began to roll my hips.

The other Esme was rolling her hips to the music, swirling and rubbing her ass up against the wall. I followed her movements while Tom thrust up into me, running his hands over my breasts and nipping my shoulder blades with his teeth.

The beat quickened and we, Esme and I, started pumping. Faster and faster, stronger and stronger. Tom reached up for my neck and pulled me into him. I turned my head and we kissed. I'd stopped thrusting but he kept going. I had been working my clit with an index finger, taking my time until Tom decided to help out. Two fingers were better than one, and we damn fell off the chair we were grinding so hard.

I came first, my pussy clenching and milking his dick as his orgasm arrived a second later. I cried out, but I couldn't hear it. The music was still going, as was the party all around us. The other Esme was still on the radiator cover, smoking a cigarette and staring right at us. She smiled, probably curious about the couple in masks sharing a single seat who had obviously _not_ just finished playing Musical Chairs. I let my head fall back onto Tom's shoulder.

"That was..." I couldn't find a word to describe what just happened. Especially when Tom was still inside me.

"I know." Tom kissed my ear. "Thank you."

"Don't you think it should be me thanking you?"

"I will accept any and all gratitude. But you trusted me and this night to show you a good time. To remind you of how sexy you were, and how sexy you are." He kissed my shoulder. "How free."

"If you say so."

Tom tugged on my hair, laughing softly.

"I mean it."

I nodded. "I know you do." I turned around to face him, planting a gentle kiss on his lips.

"I hate to fuck and dash but we should probably get going." The tiniest hint of a frown on his lips as Tom expressed this concern.

"You're right. But can we sit here for a minute? This feels good." I squirmed a little. Tom was still inside me. He laughed.

"Sure. But we've been spotted, and I just want to ensure Esme doesn't come over here to chat up the couple who just fucked to the sight of her dancing."

"Fair point." Taking his hands in mine, I pressed his fingers to my lips, sucking on the one that had been working my clit in tandem with my own.

"But...?" he asked.

"Are you sure we can't just say hello, even for a second?" I smirked. "Because right about now, I could really use a cigarette."


	3. Coming Down, Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I like new friends." I kissed his chest, then pressed my cheek against it. I could feel his heart beating. "I think it would be a good place to start. See where we go from there?" There were no promises but the idea of something, a little seed. I liked it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks so much for reading. Kudos and comments are welcome, as ever. Enjoy this short chapter!

I got a text after I got home, closed the door behind me, sunk into my bed, my coat and shoes still on. After I'd ridden up the elevator, fumbled for my keys, touched lips that were sore after a night of kissing.

After Tom gently pushed me off his lap at the LCB, after we slunk out of the living room, leaving other me to smoke another cigarette and resume her bump and grind. After getting me into the car and driving me north on Lake Shore Drive, one hand on the steering wheel and the other buried in between my thighs.

Tom had put his shirt back on under his coat, leaving both unbuttoned so I could stare at his neck and chest, still covered in a thin film of sweat. His waistcoat was bundled up with my dress at my feet. I had my coat thrown over me like a blanket, arms threaded through the sleeves. I clutched at the seatbelt desperately while Tom's fingers rubbed my clit, which throbbed underneath my slip. He wouldn't let me touch him in return.

"Not while I'm driving, Petal." He practically crooned when we stopped at a light. "Just relax. You'll be home soon."

"But I don't want to be home soon." I watched his lips curl up in a smile. "You said 'You'll be home soon.' You're sending me home all alone." I squeezed my eyes shut when he pushed a single finger in further into me, then slowly dragged it back out and across my clit.

"You won't be alone for long. You've still got two to go." 

"But what if I don't like them as much as I like you?" I whispered. I could see Tom's profile soften.

"You like me?" His smile turned into a smirk.

I swatted at him. "Asshole. You know I do."

"Good." He turned to look at me. "Because I like you, too."

The light ahead turned green and the car lurched forward a little roughly as Tom pressed down on the gas pedal. His hand jerked away from my lap. I whined.

"You know, Hemsworth called you my Valentine's angel but I'm beginning to think you are the actual devil." I arched an eyebrow at him.

Tom chuckled.

"What, my darling girl, would give you that idea?" he asked, taking the finger that had just been inside of me and inserting it slowly into his open mouth. His tongue darted out to flick the tip before he closed his lips around the digit. I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut for a second.

"I'm going to miss this, you know." I tucked a curl behind his right ear, tugging on the lobe before withdrawing my hand. "Hanging out. I haven't had this much fun in a long time. Well,  _this kind_ of fun, anyway." I smiled ruefully. Tom smiled back.

"Neither have I."

"Really? Don't you have dozens of adorable girls just waiting for you at home?" Tom frowned, at me or at the question, I wasn't sure.

"I travel for work all the time so it's hard to start and maintain the kind of relationship when I would like. And when I am home for mere weeks at a time? A few exes, some girls I like to take to dinner, sure. But nobody special, not at the moment." He sighed. "It's hard to lead a private life in the public eye."

"Yeah. Guess it must be." I wanted to kiss him so badly but instead I stared at my hands, which sat folded in my lap. "It must be hard to be so handsome and charming and funny." I tried to lighten the mood.

"Also well educated and maybe a little rich."

"Of course!" I rolled my eyes at him.

"It is my burden to bear, truly!" Tom feigned angst, dropping one hand against his brow. We laughed together.

Pulling up in front of my building, Tom double-parked then jumped out to help me from my seat. I stuffed my dress in my bag while Tom drew my coat around me like a cape. I couldn't imagine how awful and messy I must have looked after a night of dancing (and fucking, let's not forget the fucking) in a room full of strangers 17 years in the past but under the orange street lights, with Tom smiling at me like I was the prettiest girl in the world, I could have not cared less.

Wrapping my hands around his waist, I pressed my face into his chest and tried to gather myself before speaking.

"Thank you for..." I paused, not knowing where to start. "Thanks for this. It was a great night." I turned my face up to him just as a single tear slid down my cheek.

"And it's not even half over." Tom kissed the tear away. "But I should let you go."

"That is an ugly thing to say to a delicate flower like me." I huffed. "Besides, I am very cold and you are very warm."

"I am, aren't I?" He smiled. "But as much as I would like to join you in your apartment, by which I mean, crawl into bed with you to watch a movie for about three minutes before you ravish me with your sweet lips..." He pecked them with his own. "And your soft hands..." Tom took my hands and his squeezed them, before gently pressing him to his lips. "I cannot. This night doesn't belong to me. It's yours."

"But doesn't that mean what I want goes? Which in this case is you coming upstairs so you can ravish me before we both pass out while watching 'Broad City?'"

"The night is yours in the sense that you have a particular quest to finish, with two more guides to lead you forward."

"And once the quest is over?" I tried not to let the sound of desperation creep into my voice.

Tom's eyes got darker as he bent down towards me, his face looming over me. He kissed me roughly, opening my mouth for a deep kiss that I felt all the way down to my knees. He wrapped his arms around me. I wanted him to crush me into a thousand pieces.

"Then I would look forward to starting something new. Something real."

"Are you serious? What about the distance? What about your schedule? What about your fans?" He laughed.

"Well, you're a fan, aren't you?" Tom asked tenderly. I smiled.

"I would say so."

"And we seem to make each other laugh, so I guess we could be friends."

"Oh, you guess?!" I asked in mock anger."

Tom kissed me. "I  _know_."

"I like new friends." I kissed his chest, then pressed my cheek against it. I could feel his heart beating. "I think it would be a good place to start. See where we go from there?" There were no promises but the idea of something, a little seed. I liked it.

Tom nodded, then looked concerned. "Would that be alright?"

"Yes." I nodded back at him. I meant it. "It would."

We stood wrapped up in each other for a while, neither of us wanting to be the first to break away. Finally, sadly, I moved my hands to his hips and pushed him a few inches away.

"Go. I've got things to do."

"Oh that's a lovely to end it, madam!" Tom pretended to pout at me. "'Thanks for the evening! Next gentleman caller!'"

"Yeah, and maybe he'll let me drive whatever fancy car he turns up in!"

"Doubtful. He's a bit of car nut."

"You know him?"

"Of course."

"Are you gonna..." Tom started shaking his head at me. "Of course you won't. Asshole."

"Petal." Tom said, softly. "I'll be in touch. Very soon." He got into his car, rolling down the passenger side window so I can lean in.

"Have fun." Tom advised, pulling on his gloves and starting the car.

"But not too much." A wink, and he was gone.

* * *

Upstairs in my apartment, I could feel that text as it made my iPhone buzz angrily against my hip. I pulled the phone out to read the message, the only notification I could see without unlocking the device.

_He likes it when you call him 'Sir'. - SH_


	4. In The Bedroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I ran my fingers over the fur collar, then fluffed my sex hair over it. I looked wild and unknowable in the mirror, at least until I started cackling with glee. Dork._

_He likes it when you call him 'Sir'. - SH_

I stared at the the phone in my hand. Just one line.

"Who does?" I wondered. Who was SH? Was that my date? Somebody else? Or perhaps it was just a command to keep quiet? Was 'Sir' a drill sergeant?

I looked at the phone again. There was no return number, just the day's date: "2/13/2015 11:00pm".

But how could it be 11:00pm on the 13th when Tom had picked me up at midnight on February 14? It took us about 20 minutes to drive south, we were at the party for at least an hour, then another 20 minutes home. It felt like it was at least 1:30 or even 2:00. I sat up on my knees, looking for another device to tell me the correct time. My eyes found the cable box across the room: 11:00pm.

It was odd that, on a night where I traveled back in time to 1998 to a long ago party where I had sex in a room full of strangers who were themselves engaged in all sorts of sexy deeds themselves that I was actually spooked by returning to the present, safely, an hour before my evening's adventure had begun.

And if I was brought back to 11:00pm, did that mean the evening would repeat itself at midnight, with Tom returning to whisk me back to the party?

"No, dear," a voice whispered in my head. "What Chris said at Trader Joe's. Three handsome strangers to take you to the past, return you to the present, then send you into the future." I was bummed that I wouldn't get to see Tom again but a handsome stranger was a handsome stranger. I decided to start getting ready.

I removed my coat, then peeled off my slip, bra, underwear, and stockings. Making my way into the bathroom, I peed, washed my hands, and removed my eye makeup. I decided not to wash my hair. My makeup may have been ruined but I had sex hair, TOM HIDDLESTON SEX HAIR, and there was no way I was getting rid of it so quickly. I turned on the water, waiting for it to heat up for the second time that night.

I checked in with Siri while I waited. If Siri could tell Chris and Tom about my life, why couldn't he (of course Siri on my phone sounds like a dude) let me know what was coming up next?

"Siri?" I asked, after pressing and releasing the home button on my phone, waiting for the pinging sound, my cue to speak. "Who's coming to take me out at midnight?"

"Okay, I found this." Siri replied. The screen changed, dimming to a dark gray before pulling up the white text of a Wikipedia entry. There was a picture, too.

> _Benedict Timothy Carlton Cumberbatch (born 19 July 1976) is an English actor and film producer who has performed in film, television, theatre, and radio. The son of actors Timothy Carlton and Wanda Ventham..._

"BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH!" I yelled into a towel I had pressed to my face, stifling my yell but not my excitement. I felt a pleasant twitch between my legs as I remembered his beautiful strawberry blond hair and impeccable suits in _Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy_.

Tom first, now Ben? How did I get so lucky? Where could I send Chris Hemsworth a thank you note? It was a wonder I didn't burst into flames with anticipation.

I leaned into the shower, twirling the cold water tap to the left before I got in. If I was going to last through another hot date, I needed to take a very cold shower.

* * *

"Fuck."

I was standing naked in front of my closet. The dress I'd worn out with Tom smelled of smoke and beer. My bra, panties, and slip were in no state to be worn again. Other dresses were too light for the cold, or simply too casual. I wasn't about to step out in jeans and a bulky sweater.

My phone pinged at me. Another message blinked at me.

_There is a delivery for you at the door. Please collect it at your earliest convenience._

I went to my front door and, after peering through the spyhole to find nobody standing in my hallway, yanked it open. Three boxes that had been propped against the door fell in towards me. A black garment hung from the lintel, just to the side. I gathered the packages, shut the door behind me, then stacked them on my bed.

Each box was from a different store, though all had a square of red paper affixed to them, numbered 1 to 3. Box 1 was the size of a shirt box, pale pink and tied with a black satin ribbon. The name  _Agent Provocateur_  appeared in script on top. I untied the ribbon and removed the lid to find a black lace bra and black satin panties nestled in the tissue. A pair of black thigh high stockings were folded in a packet of cellophane next to them. Instead of diving into the box, I paused to look at myself in the mirrored doors of my closet.

"Do they even make this shit in my size? They don't," I thought glumly as I looked at my double chin, my sagging breasts, and large stomach. As soon as I started putting the lid back onto the box in order to scavenge some briefs and a sports bra from my dresser, the image in the mirror changed. It was me two hours ago, writhing in my red slip, impaled on Tom's cock. One of my breasts had escaped the confines of my bra and slip to be fondled by Tom's hand while his hand frantically worked over my swollen clit. I saw us shudder, our orgasms coming one right after the other. Tom bent his head to kiss my shoulder while my head fell back onto his.

I smiled, then looked back down at the box. Opening it again, I pulled out the panties and stepped into them. They had looked too small in the box but slid right on as though they had been made for me. They hugged the underside of my belly, resting just below my navel. The seat was cut high so my ass peeked out. Red silk bows blossomed at the hips. I couldn't believe how good I looked.

I slid my arms through the straps of the bra, leaning forward so my breasts would fall into the cups. The band was snug but lay perfectly flat on my torso as soon as I did the hook and pulled the straps over my shoulders. That's when I noticed that this was barely a demi-bra. The cups covered just the bottom half of my breasts, with the cups edged in a soft lacy fringe that tickled, but did not conceal, my nipples. I tried tugging up on the bra - had it shrunk? - when I saw a handwritten note in the paper that the bra had come in.

_The brassiere is meant to leave your nipples exposed. Enjoy it. I know I will. -BC_

HALP.

I opened the next box after I'd slipped into the stockings and set aside its packaging. Box 2 was from Christian Louboutin, containing a pair of sky high black patent leather heels. I marveled at how low cut they were in the front, the rounded off point of the toe, and the famous bright red sole. There was a thin platform, so when I stepped into them I didn't immediately stumble. Keeping them on, wiggling my toes, I knelt on the bed and reached for box 3.

Box 3 bore the brand of Yves Saint Laurent, the letters Y, S, and L interwoven into a single icon. The biggest of the three, this box was also the heaviest. Inside I found a dress of shimmering viscose, black and sleek in my hands. Pulling it on, I discovered it had a high back but a low scoop neck and long, snug sleeves. It hit right at the knees, slits on each side reaching almost up to my hips. My stocking tops were totally exposed. I took this opportunity to dot some perfume at the tops of my thighs, then I reached for the garment bag.

In the garment bag was a black leather trench coat. It felt heavy but good when I put it on. I ran my fingers over the fur collar, then fluffed my sex hair over it. I looked wild and unknowable in the mirror, at least until I started cackling with glee. Dork.

I applied fresh makeup - thick eyebrows that weren't too arched, skinny winged eyeliner at the outer corners of my eyes, flushed pink cheeks, nude lip gloss - before I slid my wallet and phone in one of the hip pockets. I didn't bother with a purse, finding an inner pocket for my gloss and keys. The remaining hip pocket contained one last gift - elbow length gloves, black leather to match the coat, lined in red silk. I slid them back into the pocket. I checked the time on my phone. 11:59pm. Time to go.

In my 4" heels, I skipped the stairs and took the elevator down to the lobby. Once the door opened, I saw him. Standing there, waiting for me.

"Ben!" I gasped. I knew it would be him but I was still shocked by how handsome, how strangely feral he appeared, even in a black cashmere coat and suit. His hair was red but still dark, darker than I thought it would be.

Benedict pushed me back into the elevator, cupping my head in one hand while the other spread across my lower back. He pressed me against the wall, taking my lips into his own, massaging my tongue with his before biting it with his teeth, sucking it with his lips. He pulled away to press the Close Door button. He smiled as the door closed behind him.

"Sorry, darling. But that's 'Sir' to you."


	5. The Music Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"So consider this my stag night. One night of pleasure with a beautiful stranger before I get to spend the rest of my life with the best woman in the world." Benedict shrugged. "You don't mind, do you?"_
> 
> _I smiled at him. "I don't mind if she does. I should be thanking her. What do I send to a woman whose generosity is enabling the two of us to, you know, do whatever it is we're doing?"_
> 
> _"You know, if you wanted to write a very detailed account of everything we end up doing with, and to, each other, I believe she would find it a fascinating read." He wiggled his eyebrows at me._

Even under the harsh fluorescent light in the elevator, Benedict's skin was luminous, cheeks flushed from the winter air. His eyes were blue, icy cold but with a heat that seemed to burn right through me.

I didn't realize I had been holding my breath until he traced my lips with a fingertip.

"Sweetling," he called me in a hush. "Breathe."

I inhaled deeply, held it for a beat, then exhaled. I felt better.

"I didn't scare you, did I?" Benedict smiled at me, almost tenderly.

"You didn't." I paused. "That 'Sir' business is a pretty bold way to open the evening, don't you think?"

Benedict chuckled. "It's just my way of playing. We don't have to continue. I just thought it would make it easier to get into the right state for what I have planned later." He must have seen a flash of panic cross my face when he continued. "Nothing dangerous, I promise. Just... different."

"Different is good." I offered. I smiled, peering up at him under my lashes. "How about a compromise? I could call you Sir Ben, maybe?"

He threw his head back to laugh. His throat looked so very lickable, reminding me of the way Tom's neck was exposed to me earlier on our date at the LCB. What is it with me and necks?

"Sir Ben! But only if I may call you Mademoiselle Esme." He stepped back, folding into a deep bow.

"Just Mademoiselle, please." I said haughtily, offering my hand to him.

Benedict pressed the Open Door button behind him, then led me into the lobby. He pressed his lips to my hand, trailing kisses up to my arm and finally rested his cheek on the soft fur of my coat.

"Thanks for the coat, by the way. It's beautiful." I ran my arms down my sides to show him how well it fit.

"And the rest of it?" Benedict cocked an eye towards my cleavage. "Is it to your satisfaction?"

"I'd say. The bra is really quite delicious, if a bit on the skimpy side." I arched my eyebrow at him in mock disapproval.

"I regret nothing!" He said in mock defiance. "What about the dress?"

"Beautiful, though my nipples are feeling a little..."

"Perky? Peaked" Benedict asked hopefully, pronouncing that last word with two syllables. He popped the p sound in each, his lips puckering with each pronouncement. I felt my eyes nearly cross as they focused on his beautiful mouth.

"Well, yes. But the fabric feels almost a little too slinky." I felt bad when I saw his face fall.

"So sorry, darling. Just a tick..." Benedict slipped a very cold hand under the coat, rubbing my breast gently. I moaned obscenely, thrilling to the sensation, and I was sorry when he took his hand away. "Better?"

I looked down, pulling open the coat lapels to see that the top of the dress had been replaced by a black angora cardigan with pearl buttons. It was unbuttoned enough that I could see the lace of the bra peeking out. I could feel my nipples hardening with pleasure as they brushed against the soft fibers. I breathed deeply.

"Much better." One kiss to his cheek. "Much..." Another kiss to his nose. "Better." I took his bottom lip between my teeth, then sucked his tongue in my mouth. Benedict groaned into my mouth while I purred back.

Benedict broke the kiss so he could escort me outside, where we found a limousine idling at the curb. He opened the door for me, following me in after I climbed into the back seat. Instead of the mini-bar and neon lights I'd seen before during previous limo rides - okay, one limo ride, and that was on prom night - the back was outfitted with dark red leather bench seating. I kicked off my shoes so I could run my stocking feet over the velvety carpet underneath.

Once seated, Benedict turned to face me. He reached out to touch me, running his fingers through my hair, admiring the tousled black curls fall around my shoulders. "Your hair is positively wild, my dear."

"You have Tom Hiddleston to thank for that." 

"What does Mr. Hiddleston have to do with your hair this evening. Has he entered your service as your new hairdresser?"

"Not exactly." I chuckled, then blushed before continuing. "We got a little carried away earlier this evening."

"'Carried away?'" Benedict asked testily. "You mean to say..."

"It's sex hair, Ben." I set my jaw when I saw his eyes narrow at me. "And it's staying."

"Fine. But am I not entitled to a little jealousy?"

"This from the man who's getting married in the morning? In England? To his very beautiful, very pregnant fiance?" I challenged him. "That was a very saucy text she sent me earlier."

"So consider this my stag night. One night of pleasure with a beautiful stranger before I get to spend the rest of my life with the best woman in the world." Benedict shrugged. "You don't mind, do you?"

I smiled at him. "I don't mind if she does. I should be thanking her. What do I send to a woman whose generosity is enabling the two of us to, you know, do whatever it is we're doing?"

"You know, if you wanted to write a very detailed account of everything we end up doing with, and to, each other, I believe she would find it a fascinating read." He wiggled his eyebrows at me.

"You're serious? She'd really read everything that went down tonight between me and you?"

Benedict nodded enthusiastically. "Everything between us, what happened with you and Tom..." He growled the other man's name. "And what will happen later when you go out with M..." He stopped.

"WHO?"

Instead of replying, he pressed a button in an intercom that was embedded in the wall next to his seat. "Sir? We're ready."

* * *

The Showplace theater on Roosevelt Road sits at the top of a very long driveway off the main way, giving people time enough to peek in the shops or smoke a cigarette before heading into their movie. Cars crawl along before dipping into the subterranean garage or further along to drop off passengers at the theater door. That's where the unseen driver left us, Benedict instructing him to be nearby lest we need to leave early.

"What are we seeing?" I asked as we made our way in.

Benedict produced two tickets with a flourish, then showed me the title: 50 SHADES OF GREY.

"Oh god," I groaned. "Really? But it's supposed to be awful!"

"That may be," Benedict replied evenly. "But the books were a tremendous success, and this movie will follow that path. Surely so many millions of women cannot be wrong?"

"You wouldn't happen to be a marketing exec for this movie, would you?"

"Hardly, but it's at least worth checking out, if only for the sex." Benedict squeezed my hand on the word "sex" because of course he would.

"Okay, but if this night is all about me learning the meaning of Valentine's Day, what could I possibly hope to learn here?"

"Maybe whatever you see, do the opposite?" Benedict laughed as I threw my hands up. He caught them in his, kissing my wrists, then sliding my arms around him. We walked, closely if a bit awkwardly, up to the show.

Auditorium 1 had a VIP section, a balcony with leather love seats separated by small tables. We could bring in cocktails from the adjoining bar so we did, opting for glasses of prosecco and a bowl of bacon popcorn. The balcony was full, mostly of couples like us and groups of women giggling behind copies of books from the 50 Shades series.

I moaned in pleasure when the trailer for  _Crimson Peak_ showed, imagining I was Mia Wasikowska being ravaged by Tom Hiddleston. Benedict growled, again, so I appeased him by feeding him popcorn bacon out of my hand.

The movie began in dreary, drippy Seattle... and that's all I remember. Something about the prosecco and the popcorn, my warm soft sweater, the feeling of Benedict's fingers trailing up and down my arm, and the dullness of the movie made for ideal sleeping conditions. It also didn't help that I hadn't napped between my date with Tom and my date with Ben. He was shaking me awake just as the final credits rolled. I felt dried spit on my chin from when I had obviously drooled in my sleep.

"What did I miss? Did I miss anything good?"

Benedict shrugged. "You missed some very nice real estate. And something in a glider." He brightened. "The music was good!"

"How was the sex?"

"Painful, in that it was painfully awkward and, on occasion, appeared to be physically painful." Benedict grimaced. I could feel my facial expression matching his. We walked in silence down to the car, which was waiting for us.

"So now what? I'm sorry I fell asleep. Did I ruin your plan? What was it, by the way?" I took one of Benedict's hands in mine, in an attempt to console him.

"I thought we might try some of the things in the movie, just to see how you liked it. If you liked it."

"Which is pretty hard to do when..."

"You missed the movie because you slept through it." Benedict said, finishing my thought.

"But that's not the problem. Not knowing what I like, I mean. I know what I like. It's just, I don't enjoy the opportunities to, you know, do it."

"And if you had the opportunity?" Ben leaned in.

"Are you saying..." I paused. "What  _are_ you saying?"

Benedict pressed the intercom button. "Driver, please drive us to 3733 Southport Avenue." He squeezed my hand as the car swung around and headed away from the theater.

* * *

The street in front of the Music Box was empty, so the limousine pulled up right in front. Benedict helped me over a bank of dirty ice, then ushered me inside. The lobby was empty. I hadn't noticed the marquee so I couldn't see what was playing. The concessions stand was lit but unmanned.

"Did you want anything?" I shook my head no at Benedict's question so we walked towards auditorium 1. We found it empty. I would have been spooked but this was like a dream. I love the Music Box, it's one of my favorite places in the world. It's an old theater, with an organ and a ceiling painted like the night sky. Tiny lights embedded in the ceiling winked at us, twinkling like real stars. I felt slightly drunk.

Removing our coats, we sat down in the cross aisle so Benedict had room to stretch out his legs. I leaned my head on his shoulder.

"What are we watching?" I yawned.

"You'll see." Benedict whispered back.

The red curtains up on stage pulled open to reveal a screen. The lights came down and a movie flickered to life on screen.

It was  _Y Tu Mama Tambien_. A teenage couple fuck frantically in a teenage bedroom, desperate for one last coupling before they part for the summer. I smiled at their beauty, at how energetic and straight up hot the scene is.

The scene changed. The infamous food scene from  _9 1/2 Weeks_ , where Kim Basinger samples eggs and cherries and peppers, eyes closed so she can focus on the tastes that are fed to her by a young and not surgically enhanced Mickey Rourke.

The young, doomed lovers in that beautiful anthology of stories devoted to food in 1980's Tokyo,  _Tampopo_. The gangster orders room service to a suite where his girl squirms in delight at the feeling of a prawn, still alive and wriggling in a raw scrambled egg, trapped against her naked body. I gasped in shock and arousement as I did the first time I saw it.

I tried my best not to squirm, amusing Benedict as I wiggled in tortured near silence, panting as discreetly as I could.

"I don't see why you're working so hard not to touch yourself, not to enjoy this." His breath is hot in my ear. "You know you want to, darling."

"But I don't want to miss the movies."

"Why? You've seen these before, haven't you?"

"Yes..." I squeezed my thighs shut watching Ennis and Jack fuck for the first time, in a tent on a frozen night, in  _Brokeback Mountain_. "But I don't want to miss seeing it." I looked over at him. "I like to watch."

Benedict shook his head as I turned back to face the screen. I could feel my face burn as I saw the next movie.

"Oh fuck."

It wasn't a movie but a TV show I had watched many times on YouTube. In "Return to Cranford," Peggy Bell and William Buxton are engaged, but forced to remain apart due to the disapproval of his father, who fears that Peggy is a gold digger. William is disowned because he wishes to work as an engineer, another thing his father blames Peggy for. Friends in town conspire to bring them together on the sly, bringing the young lovers together at a party. They stand in a corner, both holding a plate of cake between them. The cake is little more than a handful of crumbs.

> _"Is it harder than you thought?"_
> 
> _"I think perhaps it is harder than you thought."_

It was when William, who is played by Tom, says "And I know what it is to want a thing that you must wait for." that I jerked, my body responding to the sound of his voice. And then when William leans down to retrieve a morsel of cake, fallen to the floor and, on the way back up, brushes sugar off Peggy's skirt, feeling her leg ever so gently while doing so, that I finally surrender.

My hands, which had been running up and down my thighs, slid up towards my panties, diving under them. I pumped one, then two fingers, into my clenching dripping cunt. I pressed and circled my clit with a thumb. I leaned back in my seat, turning my head towards Benedict. When I opened my eyes, I saw him staring at me. Hard. I couldn't tell if he was upset or aroused or possibly both.

My hands were full, so he helped himself, unbuttoning my sweater until it fell open. My nipples were already hard before they met the relatively cool air. When Benedict brushed them, first with his fingers and then with his tongue, I whimpered.

I wanted him to kiss me, licking my lips and trying to bend my head down so I might meet his mouth with mine but he ignored the invitation. Licking turned to biting, biting turned to sucking, and sucking became licking again. I was so sensitive, so on edge, seemingly out of nowhere, that I started crying, babbling nonsense, my arms tensing as I brought myself closer to orgasm.

As my back arched to prepare for release, Ben pulled his head up away from my heaving breasts. He took my wrists in his hands and yanked my arms firmly, smoothly over my head. I screamed.

"Yell all you want, darling. I won't let you come."

"Fuck. You." I hissed. I brought a knee up to my chest, trying to entice him towards my lap or to kick him, I could not decide.

"I won't let you come until you've had your punishment."

"What punishment? What did I do? Whatever it is, I'm sorry." I tried to look contrite, hoping I could appeal to his mercy.

"All those scenes, all that sex, and what drives you to the edge?"

"The cake?" I said stupidly.

"TOM." Benedict pushed his face into mine. "I love that man like a brother but it pains me to see you writhing in my presence only because _he_  appeared on screen." He sneered in disgust.

"What are you going to do to me?" I asked, trembling not with fear but with arousal. I wasn't afraid of this flash of jealousy, but I wondered what it might do next.

Benedict's response was to pull me, gently now, over his lap. I lay face down, trying to steady myself by grabbing an armrest.

Benedict flipped my skirt over my back, then yanked down my panties, leaving them at the knee.

I could hear a whoosh in the air as he brought an arm down. I flinched, expecting a smack but instead he caressed my ass, one globe then the other, before sinking a finger into my wet folds. I cried out.

"Thank you. Thank you, Sir. I promise I'll be good."

"Don't make promises you can't keep." His voice was even lower now, echoing through my body and awaking every inch of skin.

Benedict's fingers pumped into me, making a suction sound that only increased the wetter I got. A thumb wrestled with my clit, pushing and circling and occasionally tweaking the nub. I couldn't see for the tears of pleasure coming from my eyes. I could do nothing but plead over and over again as he brought me close to orgasm, which was hard to do as would occasionally insert one of the fingers from my pussy into my mouth so I could suck my juices off it. I was incoherent once the feeling of Benedict's cock, swollen and throbbing, pressed itself into my stomach.

I barely knew where I was anymore. The only sounds were the ones we were making, flesh into flesh, skin on skin, liquid throughout. A familiar instrumentation, accompanied by flickering lights on the screen, began to come out of the speakers. I turned my head somehow, aching to see what could possibly be playing while Benedict fucked me with his hands.

Two beautiful women covered in gold body paint danced, their taut thighs powerful and sensual. A handsome man in a leather jacket spoke on a cellular phone, perfect lips twitching. A beautiful brown skinned girl in a white bikini writhed on a white fur rug.

Being a Queens girl, I recognized this anthem from one of the borough's favorite sons immediately. I would have stood up for Hollis, Queens' own LL Cool J's immortal "Doin' It" except that I was, at that moment, actually doing _it_. I let the words and the beats wash over me, and then I began to move in time to the music.

> _It's the first time together and I'm feeling kinda horny_  
>  _Conventional methods of makin' love kinda bore me_

I reached back, moving Benedict's arms away so he had to withdraw his hand from my pussy. We both whined while I got up to stand in front of him. As soon as I started yanking my panties down and off, following that by removing my sweater, Benedict responded by pulling his pants down to reveal his erect penis. It was beautiful, dark and swollen, and it was for me. 

I sank to my knees in front of him, taking the tip of his dick in my mouth, swirling my tongue over the tip before bringing my hands up to massage the underside of his penis.

> _I'm gonna call you Big Daddy and scream your name_  
>  _Matter fact I can't wait for your candy rain_

I squeezed his balls, gently at first and then firmly, while he bucked ever so slightly into my mouth. I wanted to take him all in but having a small mouth (and an inexperienced one at that) triggered my gag reflex sooner than I would have liked. I looked up at Benedict mournfully. His face was now so loving, appreciative that I had tried to worship with a mouth that could not cooperate. 

> _We get it on to the break of dawn, damn you're large_  
>  _How a big girl like it, Daddy?_

Standing up, I hitched one leg then the other so I sat astride him. I looked at Benedict's strange and beautiful face as I reached down, teasing the tip of his cock as I angled it towards my aching, dripping sex.

Benedict produced a condom from his pocket, ripping it open and placing it on the tip. I smiled my gratitude for him remembering to get it, then kissed him deeply while I rolled the condom down. Once it was on I sank onto his dick quickly, gasping at the speed and force at which I descended.

Benedict only waited a second before he began thrusting up into me. I rolled my hips, holding his face next to mine and whispering lyrics in his ear.

> _Baby, I wanna hit it in the worst way_  
>  _Make it hot_  
>  _Schemin' on the ass since the first day_  
>  _Don't stop_

But once Benedict's beautiful lips found their way back to my nipples, which missed him dearly, and his hands gripped my ass, slamming me onto his dick so hard I could already see the bruises that would appear, I lost my ability to form words. My head fell back, back arched, and my breasts pushed further, closer, into Benedict.

I slipped one hand down to my hard clit, tweaking it so hard that when I came, a few moments before Benedict did, I saw nothing but flashes of white behind my eyes and the twinkle of lights from the movie theater ceiling. 


	6. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to... you're so hot, and the sex was so good. But I... but..." Dammit. I hated it when I stuttered. I tried to continue through a hiccup. "It's just that, I've fantasized about him for so long. And he really seemed to like me, a lot more than I could have even hoped for. He thought that we might see each other again, after all this._

As the song faded out, I bucked, then rolled my hips, squeezing Benedict's cock in my pussy as the last waves of our orgasms shuddered through our bodies. I pressed my forehead to Benedict's brow, trading breaths with him. His mouth was slack, lips puckered. I kissed him, sucking gently on the lower lip before I drew my head back to regard his face.

"You okay?" I asked, stroking his cheek.

Eyes still closed, he nodded.

"Okay, but certainly not the same. Not after that." He kissed me. "That was... really fantastic."

"Oh yeah?" I kissed the tip of his nose. "Do you think Sophie will like hearing that?"

Ben stretched his arms up, then brought them down around my shoulders, pulling me against him. He bent his head down to nuzzle my breasts. "I'm not sure, to be honest. She might have questions for you after she reads your account of the evening." He looked up at me. "Questions like, LL Cool J? Really? That's a turn-on?"

I laughed. "What can I say? You can take the girl out of Queens..." I blushed as I slowly eased myself off his lap, sighing as I watched Ben's beautiful cock slide out of me to rest, almost demurely, against his leg. "I'll do my best to be faithful and accurate to the experience."

We nodded at each other soberly, then burst out laughing at our sorry state. His hair, wild and falling in damp waves on his sweaty forehead. God knows what my mouth must have looked like. We cleaned ourselves up, pausing for quick kisses - my clavicle, his jaw, the back of my knee - before heading back out into the night.

We were cozy, curled up and snuggling in the back of the car. We took our time getting back to my apartment, the car not rushing to catch every light. Even so, the ride was all too brief.

I was out of the car and on the curb quickly, shutting the door before Ben could follow me out. I leaned in to kiss him, enjoying the taste of his tongue one last time.

"You're going to make a handsome groom." I touched his face, gasping when he kissed my palm. "Sophie's so lucky to have you." I couldn't help the catch in my voice as I said.

"Oh sweetheart." Ben opened the door gently so it didn't slam into me. He stepped out and enfolded me in his arms. "You'll be alright?"

"Yeah." I didn't sound entirely convincing as I choked back tears. "I'm not even sure why I'm crying."

"We've been through a lot this evening, you especially." His voice was warm in my year. "Tell me, when we were together, at the theater, you were thinking about him, weren't you?"

I nodded. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to... you're so hot, and the sex was _so_ good. But I... but..." Dammit. I hated it when I stuttered. I tried to continue through a hiccup. "It's just that, I've fantasized about him for so long. And he really seemed to like me, a lot more than I could have even hoped for. He thought that we might see each other again, after all this."

"I'm sure you will. If you both want it badly enough." Ben's voice sounded kind, his eyes crinkled at me. "I'm not sure where this doubt is coming from. And I don't want to tell you what to feel, but you're a lot more confident than I think you give yourself credit for."

"Gee, thanks, Coach!" That got me a sharp slap on the rump. "Ow!"

Ben rubbed my ass to take away the sting, and cop a feel, squeezing a cheek before he rested his hand on the small of my back.

"I was going to tell you who you're final date was, but if you're going to be a little minx, then in ignorance you shall wait."

"How much time do I have?" Ben withdrew an iPhone from his pocket, checking the time.

"Three hours. We're back to February 13th, 9:00pm."

"Really?"

"No doubt you'd like to rest, freshen up before he arrives?"

"Maybe I don't." I purred. "Maybe I want the smell of you on me when he picks me up."

"I doubt he'd like that." Ben's eyes grew darker. "He might even hate it."

"Can't wait to see what he does if that's the case."

"I can't wait to read about it when you send your report to Sophie." He wiggled his eyebrows as I remembered my promise to him.

"I can't believe that's what she wants me to do." I laughed. "Are you sure I couldn't send her a toaster instead?"

* * *

In the elevator up to my floor, I dug around in my coat pockets, locating my keys. I checked myself for bruises from my coupling with Ben, seeing nothing but some light scratches on my thighs. And also my knees were raw. And my hair looked like a bird's nest. A sexy bird's nest, sure, but still.

The more serious bruises, the fun ones, I could only feel - on my hips, my thighs, and my ass. I was remembering the tube of cooling aloe gel I kept in the fridge as I walked down the hall when I saw him, leaning against my front door.

"Surprised, Petal?"

I ran, throwing myself into Tom's arms, onto his lips, as my reply. I pulled his head down closer to mine, running my hands through his hair when I wasn't using them to grab his arms and pull the around me. I felt this powerful sense of need surge through me, heating up my whole body until it felt like I was on fire.

"We don't have much time." I hissed, turning towards my door to unlock it. I dragged him in, not caring about the stale air caused by the closed windows to trap the heat coming from the radiator, or the dirty laundry piled in a corner of my tiny studio. At least my bed, while unmade, had fresh sheets. I didn't even bother turning off the lights as I led him inside, laughing as I pulled off my coat, then my sweater and skirt.

I kept the bra, panties, stockings, and shoes on, though. That shit was hot.

I fell back onto my bed, tugging him with me. I yanked his coat off over his head just as he crashed on top of me.

Tom got up on his knees, slowly removing shirt, regarding me in my state of agony with a bemused expression.

"Isn't this presumptuous?" he mused. "What if I just wanted to talk? Borrow some sugar?" He gasped loudly when I sat up, grabbing the bulge in his pants with my hand.

"Talking's fine, but let's take care of this first, shall we?" I opened his fly, yanked down his jeans, and took his cock into my waiting mouth.

I sucked on the tip with a pop, swirled my tongue over it, then dragged the flat of my tongue slowly along the underside. I teased the frenulum, enjoying the utterly obscene words coming out of Tom's mouth. I relished it, thrilling at the taste and weight of his cock in my mouth. I managed to look up and make eye contact, groaning when I saw that his eyes were hooded, the pupils blown. His mouth hung open, slack, as I massaged his dick with my soft mouth.

I couldn't take all of him in, so I used my hands to envelop him entirely, spreading the spit from my tongue for lubrication. His head lolled back, which I took as my cue to suck harder. Moving faster, I pumped more, hollowing my cheeks as I did. He moved his hands to pull my hair away from my face, then gently still my head so he could fuck my mouth.

I relaxed my throat, not minding the tears that came out of my eyes from the discomfort. I wanted him to keep going, keep fucking, keep thrusting. The corners of my mouth burned as it stretched further to accommodate him, but I didn't care. I grabbed his ass, pushing him and kneading him, not caring when I heard him groan "Oh god. Esme, I'm gonna, I'm gonna come!"

And then he did. His hips pumped a few more times and then stilled, and so I sucked him greedily, swallowing it, which was all I wanted. Once I was done, I released his cock, then fell back on my bed, and closed my eyes. I felt the bed shift, then Tom's weight as he lowered himself on top of me. I brought my arms up, settling my hands on the nape of his neck, and whispered into the top of his head.

"Thank you for coming back."

And then, before I had a chance to pop up and get a quick drink of water, Tom kissed me.

* * *

For my third shower of the night, I ended up washing my hair though I was sad to be getting rid of my OMG TOM HIDDLESTON THEN BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH THEN TOM AGAIN sex hair. Pinning up my hair in damp, loose waves, I shrugged on my bathrobe. I took a deep breath and walked out of my bathroom to find Tom, now completely naked, lying in my bed. He had my glasses pushed up on his head, and was reading the latest issue of my college alumni magazine.

"What are you doing wearing my glasses?"

"Checking to see if we wear the same prescription. You're blind as a bat, aren't you?"

"Afraid so." I shrugged. I sat at the foot of the bed, watching him read. He had a half smile on his face. I nudged his leg. "Learn anything?" I asked, nodding towards the magazine.

Tom closed the magazine to look at the cover. "No, but I thought you might want to see this." He reopened the magazine to a page at the back, the section with class notes. "Look at the picture."

The picture had been sent in by Milena Huang, class of 1998: "Hey guys! I was just going through my shoebox of photos that didn't make the yearbook. Thought you might appreciate this snap from the Lascivious Costume Ball." The picture was a party shot, and there I was near the top, go-going away, 22 year old me whipping my head around.

"Oh thank god, you can't even see my face." I sighed in relief.

Tom's smile got wider as he tapped the page. "Look again. In the lower right corner."

I peered, then nearly dropped the magazine. There, blurry but obviously, were present day Tom and I - just from our shoulders, but it was the two of us. My eyes were closed while Tom danced behind me.

"Shit. Do you think anybody recognized us?"

Tom sat up to squeeze next to me, so we could look at the magazine together. "No. I think the masks worked. Nothing to worry about, I shouldn't think." He rubbed his chin.

I kissed him. "My glasses look good on you. I'd tell you to keep them but I need them when I'm not wearing my contacts."

"It's just as well. I'd rather have your pants anyway." Tom joked, eyeing my discarded underwear on the floor.

"Idiot!" I laughed.

"Come back to bed?" He asked hopefully.

"I'd love to, but I'm pretty sure this evening will never end if I don't go on my final date."

"Would that be so awful, if this evening never ended?"

"That would be amazing, if a bit exhausting." I pretended to faint onto the bed, falling on my stomach next to him. I turned to face him, lying on my side. "Do you want to know what happened with Ben?"

Tom's face stilled as he considered the question. He looked at me but I couldn't read the expression on his face.

"Sure. I mean, I guess. Do I want to?" He asked, hesitation in his voice.

"You don't have to know, but I want to be honest. Especially if we see each other after tonight. If that's still on the table." He nodded, so I continued.

"We went to the movies."

"Something good?" he asked hopefully.

"No - 50 Shades!"

"God not that!" He groaned, then started laughing.

"I think he thought it would get us going, but it just put me to sleep." Tom laughed again. "But then after..."

"After?" Tom raised an eyebrow.

"We..." and then it all came out in one long sentence. "We went to The Music Box and there were these clips of really sexy movies and then I started touching myself how could I not did you see that skirt I was wearing it was made for touching my thighs and then Ben got mad then he punished me but really it wasn't a punishment because he fingered me and then we fucked and then we came home and that was it game over the end."

Tom rolled over onto his back, clasping his hands under his head while he looked at the ceiling.

"The end?" he asked.

"The end." I repeated. I lay my head on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed deeply.

"What did you do?"

"What do you mean?"

"What did he punish you for?"

"Well, I was touching myself..."

"I like this already." Tom purred.

I tweaked his nipple. He squeaked in mock protest.

"I was touching myself, had already been touching myself, and I was close after watching all these love scenes but I hadn't done anything more than just graze myself, you know, run my fingers up and down my thighs, pressing my fingers down on my hips." I stopped.

"Go on, please. This is getting good."

"But then I saw it." I cleared my throat.

"What was it?"

"It was you. I saw you. It was a scene from 'Return to Cranford', do you remember?"

Tom nodded slowly. "Of course. Which bit?"

"The party scene with you and Peggy. She drops a piece of cake on the floor and you bow down in front of her to pick it up. You see sugar on her skirt, so you brush it off slowly, so slowly, while you're kneeling in front of her." I could feel my face flushing all over again. "It just makes me so hot, seeing that."

"Really? Was it because of the cake?"

"Jerk!" I huffed. "It's the secrecy of that meeting, a conversation in hushed tones, then that stolen touch." I felt so cheesy saying this but I had to get it all out. "I always wished I was Peggy, feeling you brushing my skirt, pressing your hand harder than you should so you can touch me. And then I always feel sad because I can't have you for real, because you're you and I'm just some dumb girl who loves..."

Oh god. I looked down, then up, then down again. Anywhere but at him.

Tom took my hand in his, pressing my fingers to his lips.

"You want to know why I came back?" he whispered.

I looked up at Tom's face, opening my mouth to speak but he interrupted to answer his own question.

"I like you. A lot. I like talking to you. I like lying here with you. I like driving with you. I like having sex with you."

"Thanks." I sniffed.

"No, I mean, I  _really_ like having sex with you."

"I GET IT."

"But more than that, I like being with you. I came back because I wanted you. And I wanted to see if you wanted me too."

"I do." I nodded slowly.

"More than the next guy?"

"I think so. You're a pretty fucking tough act to follow." I could feel my eyes water. "But I still have to go, don't I?"

Tom nodded.

"Yeah, you do." He rubbed my cheek. "Just, just try not to enjoy it too much, okay?"


	7. Nashville

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _But also there were feelings. Many feelings. Many of them directed at Tom. Not at his dick and what I would call his sexual prowess (and never to his face oh god) but at him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long break between chapters. Many thanks for reading and commenting, as always.
> 
> Sorry for the absence of smut in this chapter. Just feels this time.

Did I almost say I loved him? Did I almost tell Tom I loved him?

We'd only been out once (but had sex twice).

I only met him because I was supposed to learn the true meaning of Valentine's Day.

But wasn't that love?

I wasn't sure I'd learned anything, except that I appeared to be hotter and way more fun if I could just fucking relax already.

And apparently I am not terrible at the sex.

But also there were feelings. Many feelings. Many of them directed at Tom. Not at his dick and what I would call his sexual prowess (and never to his face oh god) but at him.

"Darling, I wish I could wait, but I'm in Ben's wedding tomorrow, and I've already manipulated space and time enough to see you twice." He smiled at me ruefully. He was dressed, sitting on my bed and watching me put together another outfit for another man.

"Thanks for that. I really love that you did."

I was wearing Ben's bra and another pair of my own black hipster underpants under skinny jeans. I held two shirts, one in each hand, trying to decide which one to wear.

"This one?" I asked, holding up [a striped Breton shirt with a red heart over the left breast](http://www.barneys.com/comme-des-gar%C3%A7ons-play-stripe-long-sleeve-t-shirt-502814855.html#q=play&start=20). "Or is it too twee? This." I shook the other shirt, a black v-neck with elbow-length sleeves. "This is hotter, right?"

Tom didn't answer but he grabbed me around my hips, pulling me towards him so he could bury his head between my breasts. He sighed loudly into my stomach.

"That tickles!" I laughed, then squealed when he wiggled a finger in my navel. I pulled the black shirt over my head, not pulling it all the way down in front so I could look at Tom's face.

"Hey."

"Hey what." He looked at me, eyes wide and shining.

"Is this the first time you've done this, or something like this? Chris told me I should believe his crazy story because what's happening to me, happened to him."

"Yeah, you should believe him. It's how he got me to help. But no, you're not the first girl I've done this for." He looked uncomfortable.

"How many?" I blurted out, not quite meaning to sound so abrupt.

"One," Tom whispered.

"Who was she?" I reached down to stroke his hair.

"Just another girl, a few years ago. It was right after  _Thor_ came out." He chewed his bottom lip, eyes searching mine, then continued. "We had a good time."

"I bet you did!" I gently slapped the side of his head, then laughed.

"I was actually her dream guy, so she said." Tom smirked, but I couldn't smile back.

"Oh." I didn't know what else to say.

"We didn't see each other after." Tom said, a bit urgently.

"Did you want to?" I had to know. I didn't want to know, but I said the words before my brain could stop my lips from moving.

"Would it be awful if I said I didn't?"

I stroked Tom's ear, gently pinching the lobe between my fingers.

"If you're me, then no, it's not. But I feel for her. I think I understand what she went through, how she must have felt." I smiled, then leaned down to kiss him on the lips, smearing [NARS Mysterious Red](http://www.narscosmetics.com/USA/mysterious-red-velvet-matte-lip-pencil/0607845024774.html) on his lips. I rubbed my lipstick off his mouth. "Was she upset?"

"I don't know. I think she figured out that her feelings for me weren't quite reciprocated." He looked thoughtful.

"How did she figure it out?"

Tom shrugged. "She just asked me."

"Why didn't you make something up?"

"I couldn't. Would you want one of us to lead you on?" Tom paused, searching my face with his beautiful blue eyes. "Esme, I'll admit I'm pretty good actor. But I'm an absolute shit liar."

"Are you?" I asked quietly.

I sat next to Tom, wrapping my arms around one of his. He nodded.

"Good." I whispered. I pressed my cheek into his shoulder.

"You're not going to like this next bit."

I sighed. "But you're going to tell me anyway."

He nodded.

"I felt awful, but she insisted that we have a physical encounter..."

"A physical encounter? That sounds so clinical." I frowned. I wasn't as upset as I thought I'd be. "i'd be a hypocrite if I found it objectionable, right?"

"Maybe."

"Well, I'm for sure jealous." I looked up at Tom's face to find him smirking. "Ass!"

"I love it." He ran the back of his index finger against my neck, drawing it across my clavicle, making me purr.

"Just for that night, she insisted, and that would be enough."

"Did you believe her?"

"I thought I did. I hoped it was true. I didn't want to take advantage of her emotions, but she was adamant we could..."

"Have wild sex until the break of dawn?" I interjected, leering at him.

"Not quite. It was nice but not wild." I turned my face to look up at him. His big blue eyes met mine.

"Okay. I can work with that. I'm just so glad you were here when I got back from going out with Ben." I blinked to break eye contact but he kept it up.

"And before you ask, no, I will not relate anything in detail." He sighed. "Besides, I think we both know the sex we've had this evening was pretty fucking great."

"Yeah." I kissed the corner of his sweet mouth.

"It really was."

I had to kiss him again, delighting in the feeling of his lips opening to permit his tongue to massage mine. Oh god...

"I would kiss you again, but I think you  _really_ have to get going lest you run into bachelor no. 3."

"That could be fun for all of us, no?" He wiggled his eyebrows at me, then slipped an arm around my hips and pulled me in. I had to laugh.

"You're a pervert."

"I know. But, you know, if it helps..." Tom pushed me back onto the bed, lifted my t-shirt, then bent forward, leaning in so he could kiss my stomach. He blew a raspberry into my navel.

"I rather like to think of myself as  _your_  pervert."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering why this chapter is called "Nashville": <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jZFU66a5rGM>.


	8. The Other Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"She wanted to let me know that while you and your body are very much here with me, that your heart..." Michael reached out and took my hands in his. "Your heart is somewhere else."_

Once I finished getting dressed, Tom and I took the elevator down to the lobby, where I could wait for bachelor number three.

I gave him a kiss for safe travels (there may have been tongue involved), a kiss for Ben (there may have also been tongue involved), and a kiss and a hug for Sophie (no tongue for Sophie's kiss but if she ever wanted to get a drink and see where things went after that, I wouldn't have said no).

He kissed me once after he called his cab (tongue, hand on the back of my head), again when it arrived (tongue, hands squeezing my ass), and once more through the window before the car took off (no tongue, just his lips against mine, soft and warm in the cold).

I waited back inside, smiling when a few girls from the third floor headed out, dressed up and giddy and no doubt on their way to hit the bars in Wrigleyville or Lincoln Park. I gave them a thumbs up as they stumbled past. The older couple who lived on the second floor shuffled in, the gentleman holding a crumpled bag of popcorn from a movie theater in one hand and his wife's hand in the other. They all smiled at me, and I smiled back.

I turned to check my makeup in the mirror that dominated the lobby. I had shed a tear when Tom's cab pulled away, so I made sure my eye makeup wasn't too badly smudged, and that the blush on my cheeks was still intact. I was too focused on my face so I didn't notice when somebody entered the vestibule and started scrolling through the electronic directory, looking for a resident.

A knock on the glass door. I heard that, and turned towards the noise.

Michael Fassbender stood there, looking at me with a half smile on his face. He wore a dark down leather jacket over oil-spattered jeans, motorcycle gloves shoved into the pocket. Hip cocked to one side, he balanced a motorcycle helmet. I walked up to the glass door, bringing my finger up to the glass close to where his jaw was. I opened the door and stepped out to greet him.

"Hi." It was cold enough in the vestibule that I could see my breath when I spoke.

I kissed him on the lips. I almost had to remind myself to put my arms around his neck but then he locked his hands around my waist to pull me closer. He smelled like leather. He tasted like salt on my tongue when I licked his bottom lip.

"Esme Grey, right?"

I liked the way my name sounded when he said it, pronouncing "Ezzz-me" as he pulled me closer.

"It's Michael, yeah?" He nodded.

"I'm not late, am I? If so, my apologies, darlin'. There was mad traffic on the way over." He smiled, almost bashfully which only made me want to shove my tongue down his throat.

"Where did you come from? I didn't ask the other guys where they were before we met, and now I'm wondering why I didn't before."

"Oh, just from around. It's my bike from home outside, so let's just say it was a long ride." He took in my appearance, whistling appreciatively at my tight jeans and knee-high boots. "You look very warm. That's good." He reached out to stroke the leather trench I got from Ben.

"Come on, girl. Let's get cracking."

The helmet was for me. I couldn't hear anything once it was on. And forget trying to communicate with Michael once he got his helmet on. I'd never been on a motorcycle before. It took me a few tries before I could swing my leg over the seat successfully. I leaned into Michael, feeling his strong back, and wrapped both of my arms around him so I could feel his abs under my hands.

We took off, south on Broadway before heading to Lake Shore Drive. He surprised me by taking the inner drive, heading south through the park. There were lights in the trees, sparkling and blurring as we sped and eventually left the park, turning west towards Wicker Park. North Avenue was a parking lot but Michael kept the bike going forward until we hit Wood Street. Hanging a left, we rumbled to a stop in front of the Beachwood Inn.

Michael helped me off the bike before lighting a cigarette while I popped the helmet off my head.

"Michael, I love this place. This was my local when I lived in the neighborhood in my twenties." He look relieved.

"I figured we could do alright with a low-key evening, playing pool and drinking whiskey. I could never put together something posh like the other lads. But I thought we could have fun doing what I like to do when I'm at home in London."

"That sounds perfect." I stole his cigarette for a quick tug. "And as for posh, don't worry about it. I went to a fraternity party for my first date, and the movies for the second. I'm just so glad to be here with you, Michael."

"That sounds so good when you say it."

"What?" I took a step towards Michael.

"Say it again." He smiled.

I got it.

"Okay." Another tug on the cigarette, then I exhaled slowly out of the side of my mouth. "Mi..."

Before I could finish, Michael was on me, pressing his lips to mine, licking the seam until I permitted his tongue entry to my mouth. He worked his hands underneath my coat, slipping his cold hands up the front so he could brush the rough pads of his thumbs against my nipples while massing my breasts with his hands. I gasped when he pressed me into a doorway, pressing his erection up against me. I finally let my hands slip down and inside the seat of his jeans, squeezing his ass as he slowly and painfully ground himself into my pelvis.

His tongue felt long and thick, but light as it explored, massaging my tongue, then licking the roof of my mouth. He played a game with my bottom lip, biting it, then sucking on it before letting it pop back before starting the process all over again. I thought I could hear the sound of people exiting the bar, chuckling as they caught sight of us humping like teenagers.

"Oh Michael." I sounded a little whiney as I pulled away, taking his hands out of my coat and into my own. "Let's go get that drink."

The bar was empty, save for a bespectacled bartender reading a book. A few St. Patrick's Day decorations from Budweiser and Coors hung, spinning lazily over the pool table. Michael got us a couple of tallboys of Old Style.

I shed my coat, throwing it into a booth next to the jukebox. A piece of paper taped to the jukebox read "All plays free - coin slot broke". I pressed a button to flip through the pages of album track lists until I found it, the song I wanted. I punched a couple of buttons, then turned to greet Michael as he handed me my beer.

I set the beer down on the table, then took Michael's hand in mine.

"Dance with me?" He nodded, then drew my arms around his neck before settling his hands on my hips.

> _You're so sweet_  
>  _You're so fine_  
>  _I want you all and everything just to be mine_  
>  _Cause you're my babe_  
>  _Cause you're my love_  
>  _Girl I'm just a Jeepster for your love..._

We two-stepped in circles next to the bar, stealing little kisses, not talking much.

"Michael?"

"Hmm?"

"Is this the future?"

"How d'ye mean?" He pressed his cheek to mine and hummed along.

"Chris said something about this whole caper being like 'A Christmas Carol'. I've already been to the past and the present, so when are we?"

"Oh yeah." He made a show of peering at his bare left wrist, pretending to check a watch. "It is March 14, 2015."

"That's not much of a leap."

"Disappointed?"

"A little. I mean, if we're gonna go into the future, why not go further?"

"Was there someplace you wanted to go?"

"Not exactly."

"Was there someone you wanted to see?" Michael stopped and ran a finger under my chin, lifting it so I could face him.

"Maybe."

"Oh yeah?"

I could only nod.

"It's Tom Hiddleston, is it?"

As soon as Michael said his name, I felt something catch in my throat.

"How did you know?"

"I read your report."

I felt a weight at the bottom of my stomach.

"What report?"

"The one you sent to Sophie."

"But I haven't written it yet! And how did you even get it anyway?"

"It's March 14, love. Of course you have, and she sent it to me."

"What did it say?" My face was burning. "Oh god, I feel so..."

"Don't feel bad." Michael led me back to the booth. The jukebox continued playing the rest of T. Rex's "Electric Warrior" on its own.

I chugged my beer, then hoisted the empty in the air, waving at the bartender. He brought us two more.

"How? I thought that was just for Sophie."

"It was. But after she read the bits about Tom, and there were a lot of them, she thought I might want to see it."

"Why would she do that?" I cried. Michael shrugged.

"Maybe she wanted me to know what I was getting into."

"What does that mean?" I narrowed my eyes at him.

"She wanted to let me know that while you and your body are very much here with me, that your heart..." Michael reached out and took my hands in his. "Your heart is somewhere else."

I sat back. I could feel the tears starting already. Michael got out of his seat and slid into the booth next to me. I started sobbing as soon as he put an arm around me.

"Michael, I want him. I want him back."

"I know."

"I'm so dumb."

"You aren't."

"I've only known him for a few hours."

"But you've liked him for a lot longer than that."

"Yeah, but it was a crush. A stupid crush like all the ones before."

"Does it really feel that way? Did it feel that way when you were with him?"

"No." I shook my head. "It felt wonderful. It felt so easy." I paused. "Maybe it felt too easy, that he would seem to like me so much."

"Did you tell him about your feelings?"

"Sorta? I mean..." I sat up, took a sip of my beer. "We like each other. We established that at least." Michael laughed. "He said he would, if we could, maybe see where this goes. After tonight."

"What's wrong with that?" I could hear the smile in Michael's voice.

"I dunno. I get the feeling that he's so nice, that he'd tell me something just to make me feel good."

"You calling him a liar?"

"No. I think everybody likes him. And he likes everybody. And that's great. It's a big part of why I like him so much. But..." I smiled up at Michael.

"But I want him to like me most of all."

"I feel like I should be insulted..."

"Oh no! I'm sorry. I bet you didn't think you'd be spending our time talking about how much I want somebody else, huh?"

"Not exactly." Michael looked thoughtful. "But I had to admit I'm not exactly surprised."

"What do you mean?"

"That business at the Music Box, dear." He arched an eyebrow at me.

"What business? I went to the movies with Benedict, we had sex to LL Cool J! I'd already had Tom by that point."

"Okay, you saying that doesn't exactly make me feel better."

"Oh shit!"

Michael laughed.

"No, I meant, your punishment." Michael pulled me up out of the booth, then led me to the jukebox. He pulled me in close while he looked for another song to play.

"My punishment?"

"Yes." He punched a few buttons, then walked me backwards to the pool table. Before I fell back onto it, I checked the room. The bartender was nowhere to be found.

Bill Withers' "Who Is He (And What Is He To You)" started to play.

"I don't think I would have been as sharp as Ben as to notice what was playing when you started touching yourself." Michael stood next to the table, all cool while I lay breathless beneath him.

"To have noticed _who_ you were watching when you started taking your own pleasure." He pulled his shirt off, balling it up before placing it gently underneath my head.

"You know I'm here to serve you." Michael pushed my shirt up to my neck, but didn't pull it off. He brought my hands to my hips, resting them there, before he gently pulled my bra down. He bent down to take my left breast in his mouth, nipping the nipple with his teeth before sucking it. I could only squeak in reply.

"To please you." He brushed his palms over my ribs, then drew his hands over my stomach and down to my legs, where he pulled off my boots.

Michael unbuckled my jeans and pulled them off, leaving me only in my underwear and thigh high stockings. His breath caught when he saw them. "Beautiful, darling."

He stopped to drag a hand up one of my legs, then rested it on my mound. He squeezed it gently before speaking.

"But more than that, I want to do my best to make you forget him. At least for tonight."

Michael stood at the foot of the table, then kicked off his boots. He pulled a condom out of his pocket, dropping it on the green felt table top next to my legs. Hooking his thumbs through his pants, Michael pushed them down onto the floor. He stood, naked, for only a moment before he climbed onto the table and knelt between my legs.

"Oh Michael."

He smiled.

"Good. You remembered my name. I thought for a second you might call me Tom."

"So I guess role-play is out of the question, then." I joked.

Michael's eyes were so dark but his smile reached them anyway.

"I would say so." Michael hissed.

Michael leaned down, lifting my legs so they rested on his shoulders. I looked down at him, wanting to beg him to look at me, but I didn't want to distract him. He licked stripes up my inner thighs, slowly and deliberately until he reached my sex. I could feel my cunt contracting in anticipation of his mouth and hands. His hands found their way to my ass, gently squeezing in rhythm as he tentatively licked the fabric strip of my panties.

"Michael."

He ignored me, pushing his tongue deep into my folds. His licking and prodding made my panties brushed against my clit, which throbbed and begged to be taken into his mouth. I wiggled, almost in protest, but all that got me was Michael's hands moving from under my ass to the insides of my knees. He pushed my legs further apart, then nudged my knees up so my cunt was better angled towards him. He dove in again, this time licking and sucking the labia, ignoring the tender bundle of nerves pulsing in front of him.

"You're so wet." He groaned into me, pushing his tongue and swirling it as deep as it could go.

"Shame it isn't for me, love."

I gasped as he sat up, then jerked my legs up so they rested on his shoulders as he lay on top of me. I could feel his cock, which was so hard against my cunt, rubbing gently against my clit, as he ground himself against me.

I wanted to cry and to come, not necessarily in that order.

Michael looked at me. His eyes were still dark but a little sad.

"It's no good. I'm not him. He's not here."

"I'm sorry." I whimpered.

"I know you are. And believe me, that means a lot." He reached down and sank a finger into my cunt. I whined at the delicious feeling, then groaned at the sound of his digit sinking into then pulling out of me. I gasped.

"Are you hurt?"

"No. It's okay. I mean, if I were hurt, I don't think I'd be able to fuck you like you want me to." He smirked, then slowly sank back down so his face was buried in my cunt.

"And I know you want me to." As soon as Michael's tongue touched my clit, my body arched and I screamed.

"Michael!" My eyes were shut but it didn't matter. Behind my eyelids I saw Michael's pale body under the lamps, his head still while his mouth assaulted my clit. I could see him pursing his lips around it, using his tongue to nudge while his lips sucked.

His right hand kept my left leg hooked over his shoulder while his left was employed to fuck my cunt with one, then two fingers. I brought my hands down to grip the side of his head, not pushing but stroking his head to encourage him.

"Turn over." Michael's voice came out in a moan, but sounded firm.

Michael sat back to yank my panties off, then helped me sit up. He turned me around so I faced away from him, and gently nudged me so my face lay on the table, cradled in his shirt. I braced myself with my arms, bending them so my hands rested next to my head. My ass up in the air, I could feel coolness on my cunt and thighs where my juices had leaked.

I felt Michael press his face into me, licking gently while his hands gently rubbed the backs of my thighs. He took his hands away but kept his tongue in place, licking and sucking. I heard him open the condom, then felt his cock pushing up against my sex. He reached around to massage my breasts.

"Fuck." Michael groaned when I reached back with one of my hands, pushing it between my legs to grab his cock and start stroking it. He shoved into it, brushing against my cunt and my clit. I squeezed it once as he pulled away, moved my fingers to my tender bud as waited for Michael to enter me.

He came in smoothly, quickly filling me with his length. I clenched around him, keeping him still so I could adjust to his size and the feeling of him inside me. I exhaled, pushing back against him.

Michael took the cue, pulling back to withdraw himself almost completely, then sliding back in while I moved back to meet him. My cunt tightened around him with every stroke, then slowly spasmed as he moved faster, his strokes still so deep into me, and I started to match his pace.

Michael bent over, his face pressed into my back. He replaced my hand between my legs with one of his own, so I could use both my arms to steady myself as he fucked me faster and harder. The other hand massaged my breasts, pinching my nipples vigorously as he pumped away.

"Oh god..." I whined as my thighs tensed, my knees howling with pain as he drove into me. The sound of my voice only seemed to make Michael go faster. I clenched so hard, wanting to feel him inside me, while his cock fought to pull out and then sink back into me. His finger worked over my clit, rubbing it so hard I thought it might get chapped from the friction.

"Esme." Michael rasped, pumping faster and faster inside of me. I could feel him change his pace, snapping his hips into me. It was ragged, almost rough, and my breaths came in faster to match.

I inhaled Michael's scent from his wadded-up shirt that still cradled my head. I felt like I was nothing but my breaths and my breasts and my cunt and my ass, and everything else was him.

"Michael!" I screamed, then felt myself whimper as my orgasm started, pulsing out from my clit and moving in waves through my body. I clenched around Michael, who stopped and shuddered to his own end. He murmured words into my back, kissing me between my shoulder blades. He used his hands to pull my hips up towards his own bucking hips before they came to a stop.

I felt Michael pull out of me, then gently lay me out on the table next to him. I tried to reach down to touch his cock, which lay twitching on his thigh, but he took my hand and pressed it to his lips.

"Hi." I said, turning my face to his.

Michael's eyes were closed.

"Hello." he replied.

"That was something."

Michael chuckled at me. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should."

"Dare I ask what you're thinking?"

"Please."

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking..." I stopped. I didn't want to continue once I realized fully what was in my head.

"Say it." Michael's voice was full of concern.

"I'm thinking that... it was so good. You fucked me  _so good_. So good, in fact, that the first thing I want to do is tell Tom how good it was."

Michael's eyes opened. I shivered under his hard gaze.

And then he laughed. He just started laughing so hard that all I could do was join him.

"That is fucking ridiculous!"

"I know!" I wiped my eyes.

"I should spank you."

"I would let you but maybe not quite this minute." I smiled up at him. "I'm sorry, but you asked what I was thinking." I looked at Michael's face as he stared at the lamp swinging above us.

"So let's do it." Michael turned towards me, lying on his side so he could look at me square in the face.

"Do what?"

"Let's go find Tom and tell him."


	9. ORD > LHR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"When I think of him... when I think of him, he's all I can see. I can't think of him without feeling him, looking at me with a tiny smile, or feeling his hand in mine. I want to know him, and I want him to know me. I want him to know that if there was even the smallest chance that he would willingly be with me, could date me, could love me, that I would wait for him."_

"Let's go find Tom and tell him."

Michael's lips closed over white teeth after he spoke, concealed a tongue that had spent the better part of the evening tickling and teasing, then taking my mouth, my breasts, and my cunt. It had been a wonderful instrument to ready me for the pleasures of his hands, the tickle of his patchy beard and, yes, his magnificent dick.

Though he'd featured prominently in the few sexy dreams I'd had that weren't about Tom or Benedict (and, on occasion, Tom **and** Ben), the reality of fucking Michael, or rather, being fucked by Michael, was so much rougher and hotter than even I, with my dirty mind and my lifelong love of dirty books (to you, St. Jackie of Collins, I pray and am forever a grateful supplicant), could even imagine possible.

And, stranger still, that he would be the one to suggest we find Tom, tell him about the wonderful sex we had, because I couldn't imagine not telling Tom about something good happening to me, that's how delirious I was.

"Mister, I've got you. I've got your number." I smirked up at him. "You're a total romantic, aren't you?"

Michael smiled bashfully, making my heart melt.

"Guilty as charged," he muttered, scratching his chin. "What about you? Your night's just about over. Would you say you've learned the meaning of Valentine's Day?"

"Oh, was that the purpose of this caper? I thought it was to get as much hot sex as possible out of the founding members of my secret celebrity boyfriend club!"

Michael tweaked my right nipple with his fingers. I squealed.

"Hey!"

"This is serious, this Valentine's business." Michael growled at me, then learned forward to take my nipple in his lips, soothing it with some suckling and a few slow swipes of his tongue. I could feel myself getting wet again.

"So is this love, then, that I'm feeling?" I mused.

Michael sat up, then pulled me up so I curled into his chest.

"What does it feel like, Esme? When you think of him?"

"Of Tom?" I considered, then closed my eyes. "When I think of him... when I think of him, he's all I can see. I can't think of him without feeling him, looking at me with a tiny smile, or feeling his hand in mine. I want to know him, and I want him to know me. I want him to know that if there was even the smallest chance that he would willingly be with me, could date me, could love me, that I would happily wait for him."

I took a deep breath, feeling grateful for the warmth of Michael's shirt, the one I'd had my face pressed into when we coupled, being draped over my shoulders. I opened my eyes to find Michael's on my face - they were wet.

"Oh Esme." He pressed the palm of my right hand to his lips. "Pity the man who would refuse you and your heart."

"You don't think it's too much?"

"It's everything, darling. And it's wonderful. If my heart didn't belong to another, I would give it to you in..." Michael frowned.

"A heartbeat?" I finished the thought, then laughed while Michael grinned. "If those paparazzi pictures can be believed, you are a lucky man. She's beautiful."

"Yeah. Aren't I just?" Michael sighed, then hopped off the pool table. Cool he may be, but nobody looks cool leaping naked off a pool table. Especially when they're leaning over, picking up clothes off the floor of a dive, bare arse in the air.

Michael caught me smiling at his ass when he turned back around to hand me my jeans and boots.

"You like what you see, lady?" He leered, twirling my panties around his index finger.

"Maybe..." I leaned forward to grab at the cotton pants, but he snatched back his hand, stuffing them into his jeans pockets. "Gimme!"

"Consider it a favor, and more than fair given that I'm helping you find the man who could be your next love."

"My only love." I whispered, tucking my chin into my chest, hoping he hadn't heard me.

"Only?"

He'd heard. Damn.

"Yeah." I pushed myself off the table, wincing as my feet landed on the floor, feeling the ache in my banged-up knees. Michael let me pull my jeans on, then pull down my bra and t-shirt before talking.

"Never been in love?"

"Yeah, that's about right. And now that I think about it, it's probably why I got to go on this Valentine's Day adventure in the first place." I stepped into one boot, then the other, wiggling my toes.

Michael walked over to me, and took my hands in his.

"Luck you. You're in love, for the first time. And I'm the first to know." He slid his arms around me, pulling me into him. He rested his chin on my head. "It is love, I think."

"I think so. I hope so." I turned my head, pressing my ear to his chest, enjoying the steady thump of Michael's heart. "Let's hope it's returned."

"And if it isn't?"

"Then I've had a beautiful night. With incredible memories." I slid my hand down between Michael's legs, trailing my fingers over him until I felt him gasp. "And a shit-ton of stories for my diary."

"And for Sophie."

"And for Sophie," I repeated, remembering my promise to her.

"And for me."

"Yes, and for you, too!"

"What now?"

"Well, you take me home." I kissed his cheek. "And I write this down so I don't forget any of it." I kissed his nose. "And then I figure out how to find Tom."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

Michael helped me into my coat, shrugged into his jacket. He withdrew a hundred dollar bill from his jeans, then left it on the pool table. "For cleaning. I hope that takes care of it."

We stepped out into a night still freezing and windless. I got on the back of Michael's back after he got on and started the ignition, revving it for me as I scooted up against his ass, and wrapped my arms around his chest. I risked not wearing the helmet on the ride home, as I wanted the cold to freeze the tears that began to fall, silently but steadily, down my face.

* * *

I got home at 10:00 pm on February 13, 2015. V-Day was two hours away.

I showered and changed into pajamas. I hand-washed the bra and panties Ben had given me, put away the sweater and skirt in my basket to take  to the dry cleaners, and hung up my leather trench coat by the front door. I had my passport sitting next to me on my bed.

Plan 1 had been to put the cost of a one-way ticket to London on a credit card - okay, more like scattered across various credit cards - then use social media to track Tom down. This was pretty stalker-y, grounds for imprisonment and deportation, I'd say, so I tried again.

Plan 2 was to send an impassioned email to Tom's publicist, but a blathering email explaining in excruciating detail who I was, or thought I was, would probably get me a nice visit from a social worker or perhaps the police with polite but pointed questions about my sanity.

And then I looked at my phone. OF COURSE.

I picked it up, opened the Messages app, then scrolled to the first and only message Tom had sent me:

> _That was nice, darling. Save a little something for me. See you soon. T._

I blushed, remembering that I'd been reading and getting myself off [to a fic based on a character of his](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3519584) right after he sent it. There still was no number associated with the text, just the date and the red heart emoji from before. I typed a reply:

> You up?

"WRONG. TRY AGAIN. THIS IS NOT A BOOTY CALL." My brain yelled at me before I hit "Send" so I erased that. I tried again.

> Hello. Remember me?

A pause, then... a message.

> _How could I forget?_

Oh thank god.

> You make it home okay?
> 
> _I'm actually still at the airport. Flight's delayed but the airline insists we're leaving tonight._
> 
> Well if the airline says so it must be true, right?
> 
> _Exactly._

A pause. Then the typing dots...

> _So how was Michael?_
> 
> Do you mean, how is he doing?
> 
> _How else would I mean it?_
> 
> ...
> 
> _Oh, no! I didn't mean..._
> 
> Oh.
> 
> _But if you wanted to tell me, I wouldn't mind._
> 
> Really? I know you said you were a pervert but...
> 
> _Yes, Petal. Your pervert, is what I said._
> 
> Mine, huh?
> 
> _Yes._
> 
> When does your flight leave?
> 
> _They're saying in about two hours._
> 
> Good. Hold that thought.

I sent a text to Sophie.

> Hi Sophie! This is Esme! I'll be starting your report shortly. But first I need to do something completely reckless and stupid and I may break my own heart. Just thought you should know.
> 
> _Fantastic. Can't wait to read all about it._
> 
> Sorry to wake you.
> 
> _Don't worry about it. I was already up._
> 
> Baby kicking? Wedding jitters?
> 
> _Yes to those but also Ben's been muttering in his sleep. Rap, I think. Sounds like LL Cool J?_
> 
> Um... I swear that there is a reasonable explanation for that.
> 
> _LOL_

I found my trusty Danish bookbag, throwing in my wallet, my passport, my makeup bag, the Louboutins. I put on the Agent Provocateur bra, then the angora cardigan, the black thigh highs. I went commando under a pair of skinny jeans. I shoved my feet in my boots, threw on the leather coat, and only just remembered to snag a Trader Joe's rose from the bouquet I'd bought so many hours, so many kisses, so many hugs, so many laughs, so many tears ago.

Once I got down to the street, I started calculating - how much would a single ticket cost, even just to get through security and see Tom. How much time would it take to get to O'Hare. How many cabs were out tonight? Would I even find one?

I was snapped out of my reverie by the brief, sharp honk of a car horn.  A limo. The limo from my date with Ben. I gasped, then nearly passed out when the passenger side window rolled down and a head of short blonde curls appeared.

"Get in, lassie. We don't have a lot of time."

When Emma Thompson tells you to get into a car, you don't ask any questions. You just get in, and you go.


	10. "The very instant that I saw you did my heart fly to your service"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The bird on the left side of the card, flying a little lower than its partner, was a light apricot color, with a small crop of ginger curls atop its head. It had bright blue eyes, with little white feet. The bird on the right was pure black with a fat bottom - she wore a tiny red bow on her tail, which matched her red beak. Her eyes were dark amber._

Emma Thompson wore a chauffeur's uniform, a smart black cap sitting askew on top of her head. I barely had time to get buckled in before she got the car going, operating the gas and brake pedals with her bare feet.

Her pedicure was immaculate, of course.

"Love, can you open the glove compartment? There's a packet in there for you." I did as she asked, withdrawing a manila envelope with my name printed on it. A pack of Rothmann's slid out along with it.

"Would you mind?" Emma pleaded, nodding to the cigarettes. "Help yourself to one. You may need it."

I pressed the lighter into the dashboard, tapping the pack against the palm of my hand while I waited. When it popped out, I used it to light the two cigarettes I'd stuck between my lips. I handed one to Emma, who inhaled gratefully.

"Many thanks, darling." She exhaled loudly, then glanced at me. "Well, aren't you going to open it?"

I opened the flap and stuck my hand in, pulling out a boarding pass on heavy cardstock, an envelope full of English pound notes, and a postcard.

The postcard was valentine, an old-fashioned one, pale blue and frail in my hand. Two birds faced each other, both holding with their beaks an end of a pink satin ribbon that curled in the shape of a heart between them.

The birds were so cute but something about them caught my eye. It took me a while to figure it out.

The bird on the left side of the card, flying a little lower than its partner, was a light apricot color, with a small crop of ginger curls atop its head. It had bright blue eyes, with little white feet. The bird on the right was pure black with a fat bottom - she wore a tiny red bow on her tail, which matched her red beak. Her eyes were dark amber.

On the ribbon held by the birds, a line from "The Tempest" was printed in black block letters:

> _The very instant that I saw you did my heart fly to your service_

"It's a nice card, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I gasped. I took a second to compose myself. "You gotta pen?"

"In the door."

I reached over, fumbling for it, as I could not take my eyes off the card. I flipped it over when I felt the pen in my grasp. There were two lines, one labeled "To:" and the other labeled "From:". On the first line, I wrote "Tom" in a shaky print. On the second, I signed my name with an X and then an O.

It didn't look quite finished to me, so I pressed the card to my lips, kissing the spot where I'd written in Tom's name. My pursed lips left a crooked red lipsticked heart over it - perfect.

"Do you know what you're going to do when you find him?"

"Besides beg him to stay and love me forever? No, I hadn't gotten that far." I chuckled. "I'm honestly prepared for the worst, the worst being that he tells me he had a nice time and while he cares for me he's not sure he can love me the way that I so obviously love him. Then I go home, eat myself into a stupor, and pray I wake up tomorrow having forgotten the whole night."

"Oh dearest, surely you don't mean it? Would you regret it all if Thomas didn't return your affection?"

"No, I never could. This love, it's here, and I can't do anything with it except bear it. It's a gift, isn't it? I shall pray that it is returned. But I'm no fool." I pressed my head against the cold passenger window, not focusing my eyes on the lights of the city and the other cars on the Kennedy. "I don't want him to make any promises he couldn't realistically keep. I know he wouldn't lead me on, but I want him to want me. I don't want a kindness masquerading as love."

"I understand completely."

"And besides, I've seen the girls he's dated. They're all knockouts. They're all young and pretty and talented and did I mention young?" I tried not to sound desperate but I began to feel overwhelmed.

"Oh Esme, you're ravishing!" Emma sounded sincere. "I swear, if I weren't married and absolutely devoted to my own Greg, I'd be whisking you away to Paris myself."

"You are too much. And I recognize that I am lovely, in my own specific sort of way. But I've no fortune or good looks or even charm to tempt him the way those other ladies seemed to have done." I paused. "Just this love."

"That's all you need." Emma reached over to squeeze my hand.

"But will it be enough?"

"There's only one way to find out." Emma sniffed, then wiped a tear from her eye. "What does that boarding pass say?"

I examined the card, gasping when I read the details.

"Emma!"

"What?" She tried to sound innocent.

"I was hoping to get a cheapo ticket to Iowa City or something, at least to get through security."

"But British Airways only flies out of terminal 5, which is where I believe our Thomas is currently waiting for you to text him."

"Yeah, why hasn't he texted me?" I looked at my phone. It was dead. "Well, that explains that."

"There you go."

"That still leaves the question of this ticket. First class. To London. Round-trip. Open ended so I can come back whenever?"

"If you decide to return."

"But do we even know if Tom is going to want me, to be with him, to travel with him?"

"That's what we're going to find out? And as your driver, I sincerely hope I don't see you again. Not this evening anyway."

"But..."

"Esme, I'm going to tell you what you will do. You tell Tom you love him, he feels the same, you have a quick shag in the airport, then you both get on the plane to London, and live happily ever after and have lots of sex and babies."

"Go on..."

"Or you tell Tom you love him, he doesn't quite feel the same, stiff upper lip to you, you cash in your ticket for an open ticket to Paris, exchange those pounds for euros, and go mad buying chocolates and shoes and bags and more shoes, then text me so I can come over and we can commiserate with wine and shoes and I take you to Scotland with me where we drink scotch whilst wearing wellies. I'll even make frittatas."

"DEAL." I laughed, clutching my stomach.

The car lurched, then came to a stop. We were at the airport, idling at the curb in the departures area. I turned to Emma, who looked beatific. She kissed me on the cheek, then leaned over my lap to open the door.

"Good luck, darling and godspeed." She squeezed my shoulder. "And now, get the hell out of my car, and go find your man."

* * *

I got to use the fancy line at security for fancy people. I didn't even bring contact lens solution, let alone proper toiletries, so I didn't have to empty my bag for the X-ray machine, or remove my boots, as my boarding pass bore a PreCheck logo.

I ran to the gate indicated on my boarding pass, but Tom wasn't there. I approached the gate agent for help.

"Excuse me?" The gate agent looked up, a questioning look on his broad face.

"Yes, ma'am. This flight is still delayed but we expect to start boarding shortly. If you'll just take a seat..."

"Oh, no, it's just, I'm looking for my boyfriend." My lips twitched when I said the b word, it felt so weird to say.

"Have you tried calling him?"

I held up my dead phone in reply.

"Have you tried having him paged?"

"Not yet. I sort of wanted to find him without it. Can't really explain." I paused. "Can you tell me if he's checked in?"

"Not unless you're traveling together under the same reservation. May I see your boarding pass?"

I handed him the card, then watched as his eyebrows flew up.

"Have you tried the first class lounge? If he is also flying first, he might be there."

I snatched the card, and yelled "Thank you!" as I ran off, heading back towards the lounge I'd noticed in my hurry to the gate.

As I ran, the pounding of my heart reached my ears, threatening to block out every other sound in the terminal. Announcements for departures sounded a little less clear, and the din of the crowd became little more than a soft murmur. I slowed down to a jog, almost hopping in front of what I prayed was my final destination in the airport that evening.

Just inside the doors to the first class lounge, it was quiet and peaceful. I handed my passport and boarding pass to the receptionist, who welcomed me to the lounge with a quiet smile. I took a deep breath, then made my way in.

The lounge reminded me of a corporate office, with comfortable chairs and task lighting that were more humble than handsome. I could smell food coming from a hot buffet somewhere nearby that I couldn't see. I hadn't eaten since the bacon popcorn with Ben, and my stomach rumbled loudly. I pressed my hand to my stomach to quell it. Food would happen, but not until I knew for sure how my heart was doing, and what it would have to bear.

I walked past rows of armchairs, seating areas made up of coffee tables and love seats, checking the heads of passengers nodding over books or eating from plates of food in their laps. A wall of windows faced the tarmac, which was dark except when an occasional flash of lightning would hit somewhere on the runway.

When, I wondered, had it begun to rain?

I still didn't see him. He was nowhere, and so was I.

I set my bag down in an empty chair, then walked forward to the window, Pressing myself against it, I willed myself not to cry, from misery or from hunger or from exhaustion, I knew not why.

"Hungry?" A kind voice behind me.

I squeezed my eyes shut so I wouldn't cry.

"No." I sniffed. "Just a little tired. I've had an insane night, and I think I  might have lost someone..." I turned towards the voice, wiping my eyes before I opened them to see him.

Tom. Standing before me.

I started bawling as I ran into his arms. Whatever dignity I might have been clinging to evaporated as soon as I was safe in his embrace.

"Oh god. I'm so glad I didn't miss you. I'm sorry I didn't text back but my phone died and Emma Thompson drove me here and did you know she drives barefoot? She said if this doesn't work we can go to Paris to forget you and eat shoes and chocolates and then we'll be drunk in wellies in Scotland."

"Esme, what are you talking about? You aren't making any sense." Tom took my face in his hands, peering down at what I could only imagine was a sweaty face with smeared lipstick and runny mascara.

I tried to compose myself, tried to speak. But every time I spoke, I started babbling incoherently. All that talk, all night long, and I was all talked out.

Tom walked me over to the chair where my bag sat, grabbing a bottle of water from a nearby table. He removed the cap before placing it gently in my hands.

I took a sip.

"Oh that's better." I sighed, then smiled when I noticed that Tom was kneeling in front of me, stroking the backs of my legs. I tried to speak again.

"I wanted to tell you something."

"Yes?" Tom smiled.

"But I'm finding it difficult to say what I'd like to say because, um, of what it is I would like to say."

"Is this a riddle? Could you repeat that?"

"Don't laugh! You're making this harder!" I whined at him.

"Alright." He smirked. I pinched his cheek. "Petal!"

"Tom. Thomas. Thomas Hiddleston." I took a deep breath, then drew his hands into mine.

"My name is Esme Grey. I live in Chicago, Illinois. Tonight, I met your friend and brother from another mother Chris Hemsworth at my neighborhood Trader Joe's. He bought me a bouquet of red roses after telling me that tonight I would be visited by three angels who would show me the meaning of Valentine's Day. You were one of those angels, along with Benedict Cumberbatch and Michael Fassbender. The three of you were so kind, so funny, so sexy, so exciting as you showed me my life through different eyes."

Tom kissed my finger tips, nipping one playfully, calling back to when we first met.

"I didn't expect to have as much fun as I did. And when I say fun, I do mean sex."

Tom laughed with me.

"I also didn't expect to fall in love. But I did. At least I think so. I hope so."

"You did?" Tom whispered. I nodded.

"I did."

I leaned over to my bag, looking for the rose I'd brought from home, but I couldn't find it. It must have fallen out when I was running around like a lunatic.

I withdrew the valentine. I handed it to him. I saw his blue eyes spark in delight at the pretty card.

When he read the text out loud - _"T_ _he very instant that I saw you did my heart fly to your service"_ \- pronouncing word carefully, eyes meeting mine when he said "my heart".

I melted.

He kissed the card where I had kissed it, then placed it carefully in his jacket pocket.

"Thomas Hiddleston, it is my joy but also my terror to tell you that I love you." I leaned forward to kiss his forehead. "And I say this not knowing if you love me, too. It's okay if you don't. Spending these hours with you has been the happiest time of my life. And if we never see each other again, I know I will be happier having met you."

Tom sat back on his haunches, his lips curled.

"That was beautiful."

"Um, thank you." I didn't have a good feeling.

"I don't know what to say."

"That's... um. You don't have to say anything!" I popped up, nervous and wanting to run into the storm so a lightning bolt could hit me and I could burn, feeling something else but this uncertainty that felt like hunger, that felt like pain in my stomach.

Tom pressed his hands into my hips, pulling himself up to his feet. I stumbled a little under his weight, grabbing him around the waist for a moment to steady myself. As I stepped back from him, he took my right hand in his left.

"I don't have words. I'm an educated man, Esme. I have so many words at my disposal. But no words come to mind."

"But can't you say something?" I pleaded. "I promise I'll leave you alone. Just tell me."

"No," Tom whispered in my ear. "I'm sorry but I can't."

I tried to pull away so I could escape but Tom gripped me tighter.

"Wait." Tom reached into his pocket and for a second I feared he would take out the valentine, rip into pieces or just return it with a shrug.

“I have to show you.”

I watched his hand, his beautiful fingers, close around something. He brought his hand out, opening it to reveal a red rose, only slightly crushed.

"Is that..." I gasped.

"Yes," Tom nodded. "It's from your bouquet."

"Oh!" I cried. I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut to stop the tears from coming but Tom touched my cheek with the rose, then brushed it under my chin, tipping my face up to him.

"My name is Thomas William Hiddleston. I live in London, England. Earlier this evening I responded to a text from my, as you say, brother from another mother Chris Hemsworth asking for my assistance in a very important mission. I visited you, I talked to you, I snogged you, I danced with you, I made love to you."

"I thought you said you didn't have any words..." I rolled my eyes.

"Hush woman! This is a serious moment!" Tom winked at me. "I waited for you. And while I waited, I realized that these feelings that we spoke of before, that we acknowledged, weren't just feelings of affection. I loved, I fell in love. I fell in love with you."

"Wow."

"A poet in our midst, I see."

"Asshole!" I swatted at him.

"So here we are. You and me."

"Me and you."

"In love."

"In love."

"Yes." He pulled me to him, pressing his lips to mine, gently, reverently. I could feel him smiling.

"Thank god," I whispered. "I'm so relieved you're not a terrible kisser. Otherwise I'd be so fucked."

"Esme." Tom sounded threatening.

"Yes, Thomas?"

"Fucked, you say?"

Oh shit.

I heard Tom chuckle. Opening my eyes, I found him looking at me, pupils so wide he looked possessed. He took the rose and returned it to his pocket.

"Tom..." I started but stopped when he pressed a finger to my lips.

"No." Tom replaced his finger with his lips, snaking his tongue into my mouth, making me moan obscenely. I groaned as I felt him pull off my coat, then slip his hands inside my jeans, tugging the waistband down.

"Tom, we can't," I murmured. "Not here. There are people."

"Oh I suspect they won't mind. Or notice, actually." Tom looked around the lounge. I followed his gaze, smiling as I realized that, just like at Trader Joe's, time had stopped. Lights hummed above us, the storm outside continued, but the people in the lounge were still. What few planes were left outside had stopped.

Tom pulled me to a chaise next to the windows. He gently pushed me by the shoulders, waiting for me to plop down into place before he began to undress.

He shrugged out of his jacket.

I removed his boots and socks.

He pulled my sweater up over my head.

I wriggled out of my boots and jeans, chuckling when he noticed I wasn't wearing panties underneath.

"Jesus," he moaned as I unzipped his pants, then slid my hand around his cock.

"You know, I think I may take after you, stop wearing knickers as you Brits like to call them."

I drew Tom's cock out, rubbing my thumb over the slit and using the rest of my hand to envelop and rub the foreskin as it slid up and down his shaft. I lowered my mouth to him, flicking the tip of my tongue over the glans, while I continued to stroke him with my hands. I turned my attention to the underside of his dick, pressing small wet kisses with my pursed lips and tongue while I massaged his testicles.

I took him deeper into my mouth, slurping and sucking steadily, giving my lips time to accommodate his girth before I took him further, past my tongue, and back to my throat. What I couldn't fit into my mouth I jerked with my hand, my fingers and palms lubricated with juices I had swiped from my own sopping cunt.

"Oh Esme..." I heard Tom breathe. I looked up to find him looking down at me. I made eye contact while I sucked harder and faster, gagging a little but not caring if I did. He thrusted, tentatively, not meaning to because he didn't want to hurt me.

I brought my hands up to his ass, squeezing before I grabbed the cheeks to steady them before I pushed, hard, so I could fuck my face with his dick. I heard him cry out.

"Esme, I'm gonna come. I've got to..." Tom pleas were music to my ears.

I pumped him faster, sucking and moving my face in to meet his every thrust, sometimes almost releasing him completely only to keep the tip in my pursed lips so I could tease and torture the glans with my tongue. I opened wide then took him as far as I could when he slammed into my mouth. I started pinching my nipples, rolling my hips, as he jerked and came inside of my mouth.

Tom stood above me, his eyes shining, mouth slack as he watched me open my lips to show him the seed he'd spent into my mouth.

I closed my mouth to swallow it, gulping loudly, wiping a bead of cum from the corner of my pursed lips with finger. I rubbed my finger across my throbbing clit, stood up, then held it under his nose. When he gasped, I stuck the tip into his mouth, giggling as he closed his lips around it to suck.

"That tickles." The words were barely out of my mouth before Tom's mouth was on it, tongue-fucking me so hard I felt it in my feet. One hand guided me towards the chaise, helping me lie back while the other found its way to my cunt. Tom lay on top of me, chest to chest, then slid down slowly. He trailed kisses down my neck, along my breasts and across my stomach. He spread my legs with his hands, bending one over his shoulder.

He nuzzled my clit with his nose, an Eskimo kiss of sorts, before touching it with the tip of his tongue. I heard him inhale before he pressed his face into me, slowly unrolling his tongue into my slick folds. He used his hands to open my cunt wider, gently rubbing the labia with his thumbs. He teased my clit with his tongue, swirling around it while two fingers slowly pressed their way inside of me.

"Tom?" I breathed. "Oh Tom..."

He moaned in response, then curled his tongue around my clit and began to suck, gently at first.

I felt a new pressure from his thumb, a pressing from the underside of my clit as he continued to suck. His fingers were still pumping in and out of me, so slowly, the sound of which nearly distracted me from the sensation of my clit begging for release.

I bucked my hips up, towards his mouth. He used a hand to press down on my stomach, stilling me so I could do nothing but moan in sweet agony as the suction on my clit increased and the speed with which his fingers pumped inside of me.

I spread my legs wider for him and he surged forward, holding them apart at the knee while his mouth fucked my cunt. He brought a finger inside of me, curling it against my g-spot and pressed it, all the while sucking on my clit. He shook his head vigorously and I came violently, almost painfully, screaming his name as my orgasm wracked my body with release and without mercy.

Tom fell back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hands. I could barely see him, my eyes having become unfocused by the pleasure still coursing obscenely through my veins. I slid, rather clumsily onto the floor, flopping on my side next to the chaise.

Tom reached for me, slipping a hand between my legs. He squeezed my mound gently, making me cry out.

"Mine," he hissed.

Tom made to withdraw his hand but I grabbed it, shaking my head.

"More," I rasped. "More."

I turned to lie on my back, bringing my knees up before letting my legs flop apart. I looked down to see Tom looking at me, all of me. My flabby stomach, my sagging breasts, a sweaty face. God knows what my pussy looked like after he ravaged it.

On hands and knees, he crept up to me. He pressed his lips briefly to my mound, rubbed his check against my tummy, suckled and teased my nipples. Tom let his cock touch my cunt, hardening on its own. I reached down to take it and rub it against my clit. We groaned into each other's mouths as I positioned the tip against my slick folds.

Tom surprised me by sliding his cock so slowly into me, ignoring my pleas for him to fill me faster. Once he was completely seated inside me, he barely moved his hips, bucking imperceptibly while I slowed down my breathing to match his.

I brought my knees up, then wrapped my legs around his waist. I clenched around his cock, enjoying the look of surprised delight in his eyes when I did.

"You feel so..." Tom stopped to kiss me. "So wet. You feel so good. So good to me."

I closed my eyes, thrilling to the sensation of his cock filling me, stirring inside me. I slipped a hand between us to start rubbing my clit. Tom looked down at my hand.

"Oh fuck." He closed his eyes then began to thrust, fast and shallow. He whimpered as I worked my clit, tightening around him as he pumped.

I was determined to make pulling away then driving back into me as pleasurable and as torturous as possible. I started bucking my hips up, straining my back to meet him, thrust for thrust.

Tom clasped his hands behind my head, supporting himself on his forearms as he slammed into me. As he pushed harder, his movements became wilder, more erratic. A few times he withdrew completely, taking us both by surprise for a second before we'd recover and I'd help him get his dick back in.

"Look at me." I turned to Tom when he spoke. His mouth open, wincing a little in pain (his poor arms on this industrial carpeting) as he kept fucking me. "Esme, I want you to look in my eyes when you come."

I nodded, then wrapped my arms around his shoulders. I pressed my lips to his neck, bracing myself for the orgasm that was beginning to build inside of me.

My cunt clenched and I stopped bucking my hips. I looked in his beautiful eyes, finding them so dark and rich, so I could show him that I was there, and that I was his.

"Tom."

His face stilled. A smile on his sweet lips.

"I love you."

And then I came.

My eyes were open as I let it roll through me, moving my hips, shaking my legs and arms. Even with my eyes open, I could see bursts of white light, stars shooting around me and around Tom's angelic face. Tom's face contorted in a sweet agony as I came undone for him, just like he asked me to, with eyes wide open and unblinking for none but him.

I tightened my arms around Tom, my Tom.

My Tom, who was now coming to his own release, still gazing upon me like the fool I knew he was, the man foolish enough to love me. He gasped and I took advantage of his open mouth to kiss him, teasing the soft inner part of his lips with my tongue. His lips were soft but he was hard, fucking me so hard I could almost see the bruises already forming on my back and my hips. I didn't care.

I stroked his back as he came down, relaxing his body into me and sighing, whimpering like a tired child.

He made to get off me but I entwined my legs with his.

"No. Stay inside me." I whispered.

"Petal?"

"Yeah."

"I love you. I love you so much."

I kissed his ear.

"I know."


	11. Oh, Hey Cupid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I stood there, breathing heavily, watching as she peeled the shirt off her body, balled it up, then took the bundle, and used it to wipe a thin veil of sweat from her neck, the soft skin between her breasts, the breasts themselves. She finished by pressing the fabric to her cunt, rolling her hips as she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changed the chapter title so I could use "Postman's Park" in another work that will come up later in the series.

Friday, September 13, 2015. 11:45 pm.

> _Soph!_
> 
> _Tom!_
> 
> _I'm about to meet the girl._
> 
> _Brilliant!_
> 
> _You haven't met her, have you?_
> 
> _No. Not yet._
> 
> _How did you find her?_
> 
> _I found her twitter feed, rather by accident. Lots of funny things in her timeline, and from there I found her Tumblr. Which I must say is simply full of you, dearest._
> 
> _Is that why I got called up tonight?_
> 
> _Perhaps. Emma thought she was decent blogger, liked all the swear words. I think Hemsworth wanted to have a little fun._
> 
> _Lucky for him I'm a good sport._
> 
> _Lucky indeed!_
> 
> _Did you want me to look at her Twitter, get a little more information? My dossier only has the basics, as well as the list of suggested events in her life you recommended for visiting._
> 
> _Not right now. If you want to see her social media accounts, I'll send them along after you've gone out._
> 
> _Very good._
> 
> _I'm about to go get her. Any last words?_
> 
> _It's pronounced "Ezz-mee" I think._
> 
> _Ah. Thanks!_

Friday, February 13, 2015. 11:45 pm. **Again.**

> _Soph..._
> 
> _Shouldn't you be on the plane back to London?_
> 
> _I'm on my way now. I lucked out - my flight was delayed due to storms in the east._
> 
> _You're cutting it awfully close, groomsman no. 2._
> 
> _You'll notice I said my flight was delayed, not cancelled._
> 
> _Hmph._
> 
> _I saw her again._
> 
> _Esme?_
> 
> _Yes. After Ben took her. I went to the airport. Or nearly did, anyway. I wanted to see her again, so I got a coffee around the corner from her flat, then slipped into her building about 10 minutes before she returned._
> 
> _We let Ben return her to an earlier time in the evening so she had more time to rest and prepare for Michael. She needed that time because you took too long returning her from the fraternity party._
> 
> _I had no idea. Are you mad?_
> 
> _I'm not even sure that's allowed!_
> 
> _It isn't?_
> 
> _Or it is, but there is a cost._
> 
> _Dare I ask?_
> 
> _Every time you go back in the timeline to see her again, that's time taken from your own life._
> 
> _My own life?_
> 
> _Yes, sweetheart._
> 
> _But not hers?_
> 
> _No, just yours. Because you took more time._
> 
> _That's fine._
> 
> _What did she do to you, Tom?_
> 
> _That's what I'm trying to find out._

Saturday, February 14, 2015. Overnight. BA 1663.

> From: Tom Hiddleston [redacted@redacted.com]  
>  To: Sophie Hunter [redacted@redacted.com]  
>  Subject: sleeping beauty
> 
> Her eyes are so dark. Like coffee, a brown so rich they may as well be black, framed by a fine fringe of lashes that, thankfully, do nothing to dim their lustre, nor cool their heat.
> 
> She hates them, she swears, as she fixes her makeup on the plane. Swipes at them with a mascara-laden caterpillar of a wand to make them appear longer, frowns at her reflection in her tiny mirror, shoves the lot into her shoulder bag, then reaches for my hand.
> 
> I have a script to review tonight on the plane, and some words for your reception that I'd like to write down lest I forget them when I insist on making a speech. And you know I will insist on making a speech.
> 
> I'm trying to convince Esme to accompany me to the wedding but she's feeling a bit shy at the moment, doesn't want to turn up on your special day, a virtual stranger. I think she might be a little embarrassed by the fact that Ben spent his last night as a single man with her. I know you don't mind but she insists on hiding out at the Inn. I've been instructed to sneak some pudding and maybe some table flowers from the party for her. But not the bouquet. She was very clear about that.
> 
> She'd love to meet you for tea when you get back from the honeymoon, and go over the report. Her treat. She insists. Or, if you're up for an adventure, she and Emma Thompson are up to something involving wellies and frittatas and shoes in Paris. No boys allowed.
> 
> Now, she hasn't written it yet, the report. She might have written it at the airport when she found me, while we waited out the delay but, as you will no doubt read, we were otherwise engaged. And by "otherwise engaged" I mean we were shagging like mad. :)
> 
> Esme swears she can finish it before she flies back to Chicago. Whenever that is. She was thinking in March, when it's not quite so freezing, just in time for her birthday, before she joins me here for a nice long visit. I might convince her to spend her birthday here, with me, then take her away for a mini-break before Easter. Apparently her best friend Annie will be livid if they don't spend it together. Esme mentioned that Annie is a bit of an Anglophile so I'm working on getting Annie's info so I can fly them both to London for a birthday revel.
> 
> I don't think I have it in me to bother with the script, and I'll just improvise my remarks at the reception. Right now, I'm going to join my girl in some rest.
> 
> See you tomorrow/today.
> 
> Yours,
> 
> Tom

Monday, February 16, 2015. 11:00 am. London. Tom Hiddleston's house.

> From: Tom Hiddleston [redacted@redacted.com]  
>  To: Sophie Hunter [redacted@redacted.com]  
>  Subject: 
> 
> Hoping this missive finds you in a state of newlywed bliss. My dancing shoes are hung up for now, but will come down again upon the arrival of your little one. I know dancing in a hospital nursery isn't a tradition observed by, well, anybody, let alone the English. But I shall do my best to make this a new tradition for a new generation.
> 
> I thought you should know that Esme finished the report last night. She refuses to let me read it

"Hi."

I looked up from my laptop, where I was pecking out this email to Sophie, to find Esme standing in front of me. From where I sat in my lounge, I could see that she sported a mop of curls and a shy smile. I closed the computer to get a look at the rest of her.

She was wearing one of my shirts, a blue, thin, virtually transparent t-shirt that hugged her full breasts and round tummy. It cut off just below the apex of her legs. Her chubby thighs were pressed together. I hoped it was because she wasn't wearing knickers.

She bit her bottom lip.

"I'm doing a little laundry." Pause. "You don't mind me wearing this, do you?" Her lips curled up into a smirk. Her eyes narrowed.

I cleared my throat, and set aside my laptop.

"Actually, I do mind. I mind quite a bit." I extended my right arm out towards her, palm open and facing the ceiling.

"Petal."

She quirked her eyebrow at the sound of her pet name.

"Give it here."

Esme, my sweet little minx, chuckled.

"No," she shook her head, challenging me with a hard stare.

"If you want it, you're going to have to take it."

The air between us was so thick I could barely breathe.

"Wench!" I hissed as I leapt up from my seat, lunging after her retreating form.

Her laughter, peals of it threatening to melt my resolve, followed her as she ran up the stairs, down the corridor and into my bedroom. I took the stairs two at a time and only caught up with her at the foot of the bed. She knelt in the middle of the mattress, facing me.

I stood there, breathing heavily, watching as she peeled the shirt off her body, balled it up, then took the bundle, and used it to wipe a thin veil of sweat from her neck, the soft skin between her breasts, the breasts themselves. She finished by pressing the fabric to her cunt, rolling her hips as she did.

Dear God.

She moaned softly, pressing it harder between her legs. She lifted it to her nose and sniffed, delicately.

"Mine now." She swiped her tongue over her upper lip.

I stepped towards her, crawling on the bed to join her, kicking off my pyjama bottoms so I could press my naked body against hers. I slid my hand into hers, forcing her to release the shirt, so I could bend her arm behind her back. I ran my other hand through her soft curls, then yanked gently on her hair so her head snapped back ever so slightly, and I could bite into the soft flesh where her jaw and her neck met.

She whimpered. I could feel her trembling in my arms. Feel her cunt leaking into my cock, which was getting harder with every vibration.

My sweet little Petal.

"Esme." I planted a small kiss on her cheek. "You're a guest here, for now, so I shouldn't be surprised that you didn't know better than to go rooting through my things. You Americans act like you own everything."

I ground my cock against her, relishing the feeling of her pussy shaking and fluttering against me.

"Lucky for you, I'm a gracious host. I'm willing to cede several things to you, especially as I am determined that you shall one day be the lady of this humble abode." I lowered my mouth to suckle her nipples briefly, nipping them with my teeth when she began to moan and grind into me.

She gasped.

"All in due time," I whispered, easing her onto her back, helping her raise her arms so they rested comfortably around my neck. I spread her legs, using my hands to move her knees up and out. I knelt on top of her, moving my cock into place so it rested atop her wet folds, twitching and waiting for entry into the sweet heaven of her hot, tight cunt.

"Oh Tom, please," she cried, trying to wrap her legs around my waist. I pushed her legs back down.

"No. I insist. Ladies first."

I pumped forward, not sinking into her but rubbing her nether lips with my cock. I didn't prevent her from reaching down to grasp at it, but I would grab her wrist to stop her from pushing it inside of her. I rubbed my tip against her clit, pushing it so hard that it nearly killed me not to give her release by pinching it with my fingers while I drove my cock into her, filling until she begged me to stop.

But she never did. She took whatever I gave her, delighting in every surprise, every move, every breath we took together.

As much as I loved watching her writhe against me, the shudder of her belly and her breasts, her plump lips mouthing prayers or curses, I could hardly tell, I wanted to taste her, bury my face in her sweet honeypot so deeply that I could do nothing but surrender my tongue to her.

So I did. A bit cruelly, I rose up on my knees, pressing her hands to my cock so she should finish me with her hands. Eyes squeezed shut, she rubbed and tickled, even occasionally slapped my shaft until I came, raggedly, in a few spurts on her stomach. Before I could get a tissue to clean her off, she smiled at me, wiped the stuff with her hands, then licked her fingers clean.

"You dirty little bitch. That... that is so fucking sexy." I couldn't maintain my cool for much longer. Her playfulness, her willingness, it was contagious.

She purred. I reached up to kiss her dirty mouth, sucking and biting on her lower lip.

(When pressed together, her lips form a perfect heart shape. You'd have to be completely dead inside not to love that.)

I kissed down her body, pursing my lips around her chin, sucking on her throat (I made a mental note to buy her a necklace or a scarf or a turtleneck to cover the bruise that will surely be there by morning), suckling on her tiny nipples, something of which I never get enough, nuzzling the underside of her breasts, sucking on her navel and then finally, wrapping the tip of my tongue in a curl around her clit.

Her pubis isn't flat but very round and plump. I know she doesn't love it. I'm waiting to tell her than when I take her from above, when I squeeze her thighs together and buck into her, it's so tight, and so juicy, that I nearly pass out from the sweet agony and the sight of my cock being wholly taken into something so humble.

Esme's folds aren't pink but a rather dark tan, a few shades darker than her skin. There are scars (marks of survival) and stretch marks (like tiger stripes, I sometimes think) and moles and freckles (so precious) in places both visible and hidden. I don't yet have all the stories of where these scars and marks came from but I can't wait to find out. Especially the freckles, as I have a few of my own I'd like to show her.

There is something clean about her scent and her smell. Like the ocean, a tidal pool, I thought as I scooped my tongue deep inside of her. I rubbed her clit between two fingers, almost jerking it off to make up for the absence of my tongue there. My tongue meant to explore.

I looked up at her face. Her eyes met mine. I couldn't look away, so I did the best I could to bring her off while we looked at each other. I curled two fingers inside of her, stroking the sweet spongy tip inside while I rubbed her labia with my thumb. Her eyes were soft and wet, and her lips pursed for a second. And then she began to sing my name, gently, like an oath.

"Oh Tom..." she sighed.

I hummed gently but insistently, taking her clit between my lips to suckle on it, alternating suckling and slurping with my lips with swirls from my tongue.

Her belly and her breasts shook faster, harder, but her eyes never left mine as I increased the strength of my ministrations.

I sucked harder, nearly pulling her clit into my throat when finally she came, weeping so loudly that I drew myself up to I could hug her, dragging her up in to my lap. I wrapped an arm around her, gripping her shuddering back while I still had my fingers buried in her slick folds. I used my thumb to tap her clit, still twitching underneath me. I used my other hand to rub her back.

I pressed my mouth to hers, tickling her tongue with mine to stir her, before pressing my lips to her ear so I could whisper.

"Oh Esme. My darling Esme." I kissed the soft lobe, the petal before me.

"Welcome home."

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